


Buddie: From the Beginning

by Soph_Writes_118



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Firehouse 118 Family Feels (9-1-1 TV), Firehouse 118 as Family (9-1-1 TV), Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 92,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28382649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soph_Writes_118/pseuds/Soph_Writes_118
Summary: A novelisation of Buck and Eddie's journey from the beginning, focusing on the key moments in their relationship so far. Sticks to canon so expect a slow burn here.Chapter Titles:1 - Who the Hell is That?2 - Aftershock3 - The Help He Needs4 - A New Kind of Pollen5 - You Don't Find It, Son6 - You Two Have An Adorable Son7 - No, That Was A Miracle8 - Leaving Again9 - Hang On Buck10 - Maybe You'll Learn Something11 - Just Keep Swimming12 - You're Exhausting13 - Ghosted14 - Out of Control15 - You Wanna Go For The Title?16 - The Family We Chose17 - Tragically Single18 - Fighting To Come Home19 - Rope Rescues and Power Cuts20 - Derailed21 - At Least It's Not A Tsunami
Relationships: Athena Grant/Bobby Nash, Evan "Buck" Buckley & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Henrietta "Hen" Wilson/Karen Wilson, Maddie Buckley/Howie "Chimney" Han
Comments: 85
Kudos: 169





	1. Who the Hell is That?

**Author's Note:**

> So this came about because I wanted to write up the key Buddie scenes from 9-1-1 as a kind of novelisation of their story so far, focusing in particular on what they might have been thinking but not saying during these moments. I'll be going through Seasons 2 and 3 (and 4 when it airs), writing my spin on their thoughts and actions and how their relationship changes over time.
> 
> I truly suck at summaries, so I hope this reads more interesting than I'm making it sound!
> 
> Because a lot of dialogue in here is lifted from the show, DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. Nothing about the 9-1-1 universe belongs to me, I'm just playing in the world.

Buck’s POV

“OK, _that_ is a beautiful man.”

Chim is gawping at someone behind me. Hen is staring too, her jaw practically on the floor. Slowly, I turn my head to follow their gaze, and my brain does a double take. The most attractive man I’ve ever seen is getting dressed in our locker room.

“Who the hell is that?”

My words come out sharp and angry, defensive.

“Eddie Diaz, new recruit,” Bobby says. “Graduated top of his class just this week.”

The world seems to turn in slow motion, as this Hispanic guy with the most chiselled jaw I’ve ever seen tugs his LAFD t-shirt down over rippling muscles. I went on a bit of an ancient history deep dive once when I couldn't sleep, reading all about the myths and legends. This guy could be one of the Greek gods, and it’s all I can do not to make the same face as the others, to keep my hostile scowl in place.

“The guys over at Station 6 were dying to have him,” Bobby continues, “but I convinced him to join us.”

Great, so this top of his class prodigy is one of us now? Why did Bobby have to bring him in here and upset the balance?

We all have our place in the 118, our roles. Hen and Chimney are the paramedics, the best friends, the funny ones. Bobby is the captain, the mentor, who keeps us steady. And I pride myself on being younger, faster and stronger than any of the rest of them. I thought I’d found my niche here. Now my hackles rise at this unwelcome intruder, and the old feelings of inadequacy I've fought so hard against rise to the surface. I have never been good enough anywhere else, except here. And now Diaz is threatening to take this place away from me too by his very existence. Why would the 118 need me if they could have him?

“What do we need him for?” I ask, and the others all laugh like I’m joking, Bobby hardest of all.

“He’s served multiple tours in Afghanistan as an Army Medic, guy’s got a Silver Star, it’s not like he’s wet behind the ears.”

Oh come on, he’s a military hero too?

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to him. Likes to be called ‘Eight-Pack.’” Bobby gestures to his stomach as he says it, and I can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

“Damn, Silver Star,” Hen says. Even she’s impressed, and she’s married to a woman!

“Maybe drop some more body fat there, butch,” Chim says, thumping my stomach as he passes, and I wince as all my pride at having the perfect body fat measurements suddenly rings hollow.

They all flock to this new guy, while I stand rooted in place, unable to bring myself to join them. I watch as a smile lights up Diaz’s face, and he brushes wavy dark hair out of his eyes before shaking hands with them all.

I’m left feeling entirely unbalanced.

*

Eddie’s POV

“So, Silver Star, huh?”

The guy who asks me that introduced himself as Chimney. No one’s told me why he’s called that yet. He leans across the cab eagerly, as if he thinks I’m going to start spouting war stories.

“Yeah,” I say simply, and look away uncomfortably.

“You save a platoon or something?” he asks incredulously.

“No. No, nothing like that, just a convoy.”

I was just doing my job. I hate to be branded a hero. It’s a title I don’t deserve.

“Eddie, have you heard about the hot firefighter calendar?”

The only woman in our crew, Hen, calls across from the other side of the cab. It’s so loud in here that I think I must have heard her wrong.

“I’m sorry, the what?”

“For charity!”

I hear Captain Nash laugh in the front. Hen and Chimney are both grinning too, and I kind of want the ground to swallow me up.

“So is your full name Eduardo?”

The only member of my team who’s not treating me like some kind of hero is the guy sitting directly opposite me. His legs are so long that they nearly touch mine. His name badge says Buckley, and Captain Nash introduced him as Buck. This is the first thing he’s said to me.

“No.”

“Do people ever call you _Diaz_?”

“Not if they want me to respond,” I say, trying to make light of it. I spent long enough being called Diaz in the Army. I’d kind of like to be known by my first name now.

“Something’s gotta give. We’ve got Cap, Hen, Chimney, Buck,” he gestures to each of them as he speaks. “We can’t just call you _Eddie_.”

“I can’t tell if he’s being serious or not,” I say, glancing at Hen but addressing the truck at large, hoping this might break the ice.

“I like to always operate on the assumption that nothing he says is serious,” Chimney deadpans, and I smile with relief that not everyone is as uptight as Buck. I’ve never had any problem making friends before, why is this guy giving me so much hassle?

We get to the garage to find Hector in dire straits. I’ve never seen a guy swollen up like a balloon before, but I’ve done this procedure before. So when Buck looks to insert the 14 gauge angiocath, I have to intervene. Because I know what the textbooks say, but I also know what worked in the field.

“I’d go lower,” I tell him. He looks up at me like he can’t believe I’m serious.

“What? Umm, _no_ , second intercostal space, midclavicular line.”

We’re kneeling either side of Hector now but hardly seeing him, staring at each other. I’ve never seen eyes that blue before. I push my point, softly but insistently.

“Chest wall’s thinner at the fifth intercostal. At the anterior axillary line. There’s a decreased chance of injuring any vital organs.”

I see Captain Nash watching us and appeal to him, going over Buck’s head and playing the Army Medic card. Hector hasn’t got the time for us to argue this one out.

“I’ve treated guys with collapsed lungs in combat,” I tell him.

“Do it,” he says, and I know I’ve won. I look back to Buck.

“Please,” I appeal softly, and move in closer to Hector. Buck hands over the angiocath and rocks back on his heels. “Thank you,” I say, and try to focus on the job in hand. But I can still feel him staring at me as I get ready to insert the angiocath, so I decide to make him useful.

“Can you help me out with his shirt?”

The sigh I get from him is almost like a petulant teenager, but he does it anyway, unbuttoning Hector’s shirt so I can cut open his t-shirt with the scissors and insert the angiocath. And, thankfully, it works. Hector begins to deflate, and his eyes reopen.

“That’s it,” Captain Nash says. “Breathe, Hector, nice and slow.”

I make the sign of the cross, a hangover taught to me by my abuela, grateful that it worked. I know without looking up that Buckley’s watching me again. I can feel those bright blue eyes boring into me. Something about their intensity unsettles me.

“That was a good call, Eddie.”

Outside, Captain Nash pats my shoulder as he passes me stowing gear in one of the truck’s side panels. I didn’t join this job for praise, but the validation that I’m doing this right helps. Settles my confidence.

“Thanks, Cap.”

“Nice job,” Chimney says, going in the other direction.

“Yeah, good call.”

It sounds like it physically pains Buck to say it, to acknowledge that I did my job, that I knew the medic role better than he did. There’s a hint of sarcasm in there too which grates on me. I watch him climb onto the truck, wondering how I can possibly build bridges with someone who’s already set out to hate me.

*

Buck’s POV

I thought I could find some time to myself in the gym – it’s not like the others use it that often. But it turns out I can’t escape Diaz in the gym. What was I thinking? With a body like that of course he spends all his free time working out.

I grunt and lift weights with more force, as Diaz zones in on the punch bag. I watch him out of the corner of my eye, unable to help myself. He’s got good form. Even throws in a fancy kick. How can it be fair that someone like that can just walk in and take my place? When I was new there was a system. I was the probie, I had to do the grunt work, earn my spot. He swans in with his chiselled jaw and washboard abs, and his Silver Star, and it’s like he’s a veteran of the team. Everyone else has accepted him instantly. Well not me.

Chim’s POV

If our gym wasn’t free, I don’t think I could bring myself to train in it. With gym bunnies like Buck and Eddie in there all the time, it’s enough to make anyone who’s not as ripped as them feel inadequate. But training with them does have its perks.

As I slope over to a machine, Buck is going to grab extra weights. He walks too close to Eddie as he does, glaring at him the whole way to the weight rack and back again. You can see him bristling with indignation at the interloper daring to encroach on his territory. Poor Eddie.

As Buck whips out a selfie stick and starts posing, Eddie chips in, offering an olive branch.

“You’re in the wrong light, man.”

“Some of us don’t need lighting to look good,” Buck replies without looking at him. Eddie shakes his head and goes back to the punch bag, but I jump down from my machine. Because I’m not a proud man. I’m willing to take all the help I can get.

“Hey, Eddie. What do you mean by the wrong light?”

He gestures around us.

“The light in this room is flat and blue. Makes you look soft. If you want to look lean with muscles that pop, you need warm side light.” He ducks down to pick up his phone. “I’ll show you.”  
  


Eddie’s POV

I get my phone and show Chimney the photos my niece took.

“These are the ones I sent in for the calendar.”

It’s for charity, right? And I thought it might give me something to talk about with the team. I swipe through the photos, aware of Buck standing close enough that he can see them too.

“Whoa,” Chimney says, impressed, and I try not to cringe. Buck’s not so easily won over.

“That’s, uh, kind of cheating. Sending in pictures by a professional photographer.”

I laugh, because he’s being absurd.

“The photographer’s twelve,” I call after his retreating back. “My niece,” I explain to Chimney. “She’s a master of the iPhone filters.”

Chimney asks if my niece would be willing to take his calendar photos too. It’s a random request, but I know she wouldn’t mind, and again, I’m looking to make friends here. Chimney strikes me as a guy who hides behind his humour, who never feels like he measures up. Which is why what Buck says next strikes me as such a dick move.

“You know you really shouldn’t get his hopes up like that,” he grunts from across the gym, where he’s lifting another weight and doing a really bad job of not listening in to our conversation. “No offence, Chim,” he adds, as an afterthought.

“No offence taken, _Evan_ ,” Chimney shoots back, and Buck looks up sharply, his weight clanking against the ground. Guess I’ve learnt his real name. And it seems he’s not that keen on it either.

Chim moves away to another machine. I’m about to go back to the punch bag. I really am. So why do I find myself moving across the gym towards Buck? What is it about this guy, who has shown me nothing but hostility since I got here, that makes me want to try even harder to win him over?

I point my phone at him as I approach, trying to find a tactful way to broach the subject. In the end, I keep it simple.

“What’s your problem, man?”

He has his back to me, but I know he’s heard me because he turns his head and glances over his shoulder at me. I can see him weighing up how to respond when he looks away and nods to himself.

“OK, _you_ ,” he says bluntly. “You’re my problem.”

Well, he’s brutal but honest.

Buck rises to his feet as he speaks and turns to face me. It’s a simple way of emphasising the slight height difference between us. Cheap way of trying to make himself feel better I guess. His chest heaves a few times, then he goes again.

“Your comfort level, you’re not supposed to walk in here like you’ve been here for years. Meant to be a ‘getting to know you’ period. You’re meant to respect your elders.”

“You’re not his elder, Buck.”

With perfect timing, Chimney interrupts Buck’s list of grievances, not even turning to look at us from where he works out across the gym. If my heart weren’t sinking I’d be laughing. I sigh instead.

“Look, I in no way meant to be uh, too _familiar_ , or step on anybody’s toes. I know you’re, uh, going through some personal stuff right now.”

I give him the easy out. That he’s hurting and not just a first class dick. Buck shoots me a smile without humour and says, “What personal stuff?”

“I know your girlfriend recently broke up with you and you’re trying to come to terms with that.”

Chimney freezes in mid-air. Buck still has this arrogant hint of a smile on his face, even as he shifts into denial.

“I’m not.” He shakes his head. “She didn’t break up with me, who told you that?”

He ends his sentence staring accusingly at Chimney, who drops quickly back into his dips with a grunt of “Twenty-one...”

Oops. Maybe I shouldn’t have ratted out Hen and Chimney. I didn’t even ask, they offered it as an explanation for Buck’s behaviour yesterday. I sigh and try again.

“I’m just saying, I hear you’re a good guy, and I’m sorry you’re in pain, but no need to take it out on me or feel threatened by me, we’re on the same team.”  
Buck’s gaze is stormy now, jaw locked tight.

“Why would I be threatened by you?”

“Exactly,” I say, offering him a pacifying smile. “There’s no need to be. We do the same thing.” I pause, then add, “I’ve just done it while people are shooting at me, is all.”

I don’t like to make myself sound special for going to war. It was the coward’s way out of a failing marriage. But I couldn’t help myself with that dig there.

Having said my piece, I back up and return to the punch bag.

“We’re not broken up,” comes Buck’s response, and I know roughly where he stopped listening.

“Alright,” I say, not looking back at him. I hear Chimney snort disbelievingly across the gym.

*

Buck’s POV  
  


Chim had no right to tell Diaz about Abby, to say that she broke up with me. We’re still together. I’m still here, waiting for her. I will be the man she made me.

How does this guy manage to get under my skin so easily? And how, despite my best efforts, is it so impossible to hate him? I’ve been a complete jerk to him and he’s still trying to make peace between us. Another guy might have shouted at me and told me where to go, or taken a swing at me. Not him. Just those calm brown eyes, and a smile that thawed some of the ice around my heart.

I didn’t miss that dig about the Army though. It brought back the memory of washing out of the Navy SEALS. Eddie Diaz is just another reminder that I couldn’t hack it. That I wasn’t good enough. But, this time, I ignore the dig, and focus on the one area of my life where I feel like I am good enough: the most important thing in my life after my job. Abby.

*

Buck’s POV

“I’ve got an adult male, aged 65, with a large piece of shrapnel embedded in his right thigh.”

  
Bobby radios ahead as I wheel our grenade victim out to the ambulance that night. “Femoral artery damage with profuse bleeding, ten minutes out.”

Diaz is waiting on the ambulance. I catalogue his every move, looking for anything he might be doing wrong. But nothing. He’s completely at ease here. Like I said, it’s like he’s been here for years. Like he was always here.

“Buck,” Bobby calls me back. “I want you to travel with him to the hospital, keep him stable.”

I have pretty good first aid knowledge, but I’m not a paramedic. So what Bobby’s actually saying is that he wants me to ride shotgun with Diaz in the back of the ambulance. Great.

“Copy that, Cap,” I sigh, not bothering to hide the surly expression on my face. Bobby catches it, and his tone sharpens as he shoots me a warning look.

“Hey. You’ve gotta learn how to play nice, it’s one team, Buck.”

“Hey, Nash, am I gonna be alright?” our patient calls from inside the ambulance. He’ll be fine. I’m not sure we will.

“My boys have got you,” Bobby tells him. “Though you might wanna consider switching to collecting baseball cards after this.”

I take a seat on the bench beside the gurney, and look over at Diaz. He avoids my gaze, bustling around the back of the ambulance like it’s second nature. It’s gonna be a long ten minutes.

Eddie’s POV

“I guess you’ve seen a lot of shrapnel wounds.”

Oh good, so we’re still doing this?

Images flash through my mind before I can repress them. Blood and sand and screaming. Limbs where they shouldn’t be, gaping holes where they should.

“My share,” I reply nonchalantly, refusing to share my nightmares with Buck and Charlie.

“Ever seen a guy with a length of rebar stuck through his skull?”

He says it like it’s a challenge. I’m beginning to lose my patience.

“What are we measuring here, Buck?” I mutter, trying to keep it professional in front of our patient, who groans in pain to prove my point. “You need to change those dressings, they’re soaking through. Hang in there, Charlie, we’re almost there.”

I don’t miss the face Buck pulls as he reaches for fresh dressings. He needs to learn that, when I give him an order, it’s not to be superior to him. It’s supposed to be about the team, about working as a unit. It’s not about me bragging my service or my Silver Star over him. Military service looks impressive, but it’s all just a cover. I’m not the hero everyone sees when they read my service record. I’m just a coward who abandoned his wife and son and got to call it duty to my country.

“I’m just saying,” Buck says, “working the streets of LA is not exactly stress-free. May not be the same kind of pressure you have in a war zone, but...”

He lets it trail off like I should be impressed, or scared. I ignore him, and Charlie groans and reaches for his leg. A flash of gold catches my eye, and my stomach turns over. I lunge for Charlie, grabbing his arm before he can touch it.

“Hold on. I thought you said this was a practice round?”

“It is,” Charlie insists.

“Umm, what, what’s going on?” Buck says, panic spiking in his voice as he registers my tone.

“See that cap?” I ask, pointing to Charlie’s leg. “Practice rounds have blue caps. Gold caps are live.”

Adrenaline floods my system, and I turn to the front of the ambulance and bang on the roof.

“Pull over!”

Buck’s POV

A live round embedded in a man’s thigh. Well, for all my boasting to Diaz, I’ve never seen that before.

We’ve gathered in the car park of LA Memorial Hospital, so near and yet so far. While Charlie slowly bleeds out in the back of the ambulance, we work out our next move.

“I thought this thing already went off?” I ask the group at large. And of course Diaz knows the answer.

“The grenade has two components. Gunpowder, which makes it travel, and explosive powder, which makes it go boom.”

“OK, so why didn’t this one go boom?”

A tinge of sarcasm still gets through, even though I’m secretly a tiny bit impressed at his knowledge.

“It’s fitted with a proximity fuse. It’s a little smart sensor that tells the cap it’s travelled a safe enough distance away from the shooter to explode. From his hand to his leg probably wasn’t far enough.”

Apparently Bomb Squad can’t help us. What good are they in a crisis? Just because you can’t defuse a grenade...haven’t they heard of a challenge? So we weigh up getting the military here in time before Charlie bleeds out. The odds don’t look good.

“I can do it.”

Our war hero squares his jaw and looks to Bobby.

“He doesn’t go to surgery soon he’ll die.”

“You’ve done this before?” Bobby asks him.

“None of the guys I served with were dumb enough to shoot a live round in themselves, but I’m familiar with the ordinance.”

He’s so calm, so casual about it. He’s just offered himself up to die. And I can’t let him do it alone. Maybe part of it is wanting to match up to Diaz. Wanting to prove that I can be just as tough as him, just as good as he is. But there’s also that insistent voice inside me that won’t let him go in alone.

“I’m in.”

*

As we’re kitting up in what are hopefully bomb-proof vests, emblazoned with ‘LAPD’ and ‘Bomb Squad’, the leader of the Bomb Squad approaches Diaz with a tiny metal box and a grabbing tool that looks like a heavy duty litter picker.

“You get that thing out of him, put it in here, and get the hell away from it. Let us deal with it.”

Eddie takes the grabber.

“Copy that.”

He picks up the box in the other hand, jaw set, and turns towards the ambulance. As he passes me, he taps me with the grabber.

“See you inside.”

I nod. He got to do his own vest up. One of the Bomb Squad is helping me in to mine, like they don’t trust me to do it myself. The one thing they do leave me to do is the neck collar, which I start fastening as I follow Diaz to the ambulance. Bobby walks with me.

“Alright, listen, Buck, you don’t have to do this,” he says, his voice calm as always, but I detect a note of caution underneath. I’m nervous, but I’m not about to tell Bobby that, or let Diaz see. So I opt for bravado instead.

“What, you think I’m gonna let the new guy have all the fun?” I shoot a look at Bobby over my shoulder and call back to him. “Besides, you wanted us to bond, we might end up real close!”

I know Diaz heard that last bit. I meant for him to. I mean, if this all goes wrong our body parts will end up mingled and scattered across the parking lot. You can’t get much closer than that. We eye each other as he hands me the box and I climb on first. I’m determined not to show fear.

Eddie’s POV

“Besides, you wanted us to bond, we might end up real close!”

I know Buck pitched that so I would hear it, and resist the urge to roll my eyes at him as I hand him the box and he climbs onto the ambulance ahead of me. This can only go two ways, and I haven’t yet decided if his presence will be a hindrance or a help.

“How you feeling there, Charlie?” I ask.

“Like a world class idiot. My wife, if she was still alive, she’d be here now saying ‘I told you so’. Well, maybe she’ll be able to tell me in person in about a minute.”

“Well that conversation’s gonna have to wait. Nobody’s leaving this life tonight,” Buck says optimistically.

“Start the drip,” I tell him, and he does it without a word. Progress.

“What branch did you say you were in, Charlie?” I ask, hoping to distract him while we work.

“I didn’t. I always wanted to be a Marine. I tried to enlist during ’Nam, but I was 4F – an enlarged heart. So instead, I spent the last 40 years teaching 7th grade.”

He closes his eyes, seemingly ashamed that he never got to serve.

“Not all heroes serve on the battlefield,” I tell him quietly, meaning every word.

“Oh that’s very kind of you to say that,” he says, his voice growing weaker. We need to act fast.

Buck looks up at me and nods. I hold his gaze. I need to know he’s good for this. I can’t believe I’m putting my life and that of our patient in the hands of a guy who hates me, but right now all I can see is concern in those blue eyes as they meet mine. I know he wants to save Charlie as much as I do. I just have to trust him.

“You ready?” I ask. He stares back at me for a few moments.

“Yeah.”

I reach for the grabber, and Buck slowly turns the dressing back from Charlie’s leg.

“He’s losing a lot of blood,” he says, his voice worried.

“Keep pressure on it,” I tell him, and he presses down either side of the wound. “Not _too_ much pressure,” I amend. I search carefully amongst the blood, and locate the grenade.

“There it is.”

“Alright, so, so pull it out, come on,” Buck says urgently.

“I gotta...be careful.”

I’m speaking through clenched teeth. Every word is an extra effort, but I have to explain to Buck how delicate this process is.

“The sensor measures the distance travelled...based on how many rotations the shell made...after the launch. They key is...not to turn the shell while I pull it out.”

“OK, uh, so don’t turn it,” Buck says. I thinks this is him trying to be funny to cover his nerves, and I could do without it. But at least he’s not freaking out. I can feel the sweat beading on my forehead, feel the tightness where I’ve clenched my jaw. How did Charlie manage to get this so deeply embedded in his skin?

“Come on, you got this.”

If I weren’t holding a live grenade I might do a double take. That was encouragement. Low so as not to distract me, but said with conviction. Buck believes I can do this, is actually willing me on. He’s on my team for the first time since we’ve met. It feels like a small victory.

“Gonna have to, just a bit,” I reply, and twist the grenade the tiniest amount I can manage, just to dislodge it and shake it free. I worry that the blood might make it slip, that it might drop to the floor of the ambulance and blow us all up then and there. These vests may as well just be for show. If a grenade goes off at our feet, they won’t be able to hold our bodies together. What’s left of them.

But the grabber holds, and I inch the grenade out, into the air. Buck gasps, and I let go of the breath I’d been holding.

“The box,” I manage to say, and Buck grabs for it and brings it over, holding it below the grabber. We exchange a look, and I slowly lower the grenade into the box. It clanks as it touches the bottom, and we glance at each other in alarm. When it doesn’t go off, Buck shoots me a brilliant smile. It’s the first genuine smile I’ve seen from him, and it’s like looking directly at the sun.

We don’t waste time hanging around. We get Charlie’s stretcher back out of the ambulance, and wheel him into the car park, where we hand over to another crew waiting to wheel him into the hospital. I let out another breath and wipe my forehead with the back of my hand, trying to avoid the part of the glove that’s most covered in blood. Then I turn to Buck. Not many people would have been that calm. For all his posturing before, Buck was the ideal partner in that ambulance. There are guys I served with who couldn’t have done what he did tonight.

“You’re a badass under pressure, brother.”

Buck smiles again. This one is less blinding, more uncertain.

“Who, me?” he asks with shy pleasure.

“Hell yeah, you can have my back any day,” I tell him warmly.

“Yeah,” he says, smiling. Then he adds, “Or, you could, you could have mine.”

He can’t help himself. But I find myself laughing at it this time. Everything feels much funnier now.

“Deal,” I say, holding out my hand to his to shake. He takes it, and I know that the walls have well and truly fallen. We’ve proven ourselves to each other tonight.

“Nice work, fellas,” Bobby says, joining us. “Glad you both made it out of there.”

“Guy’s a professional, Cap,” Buck says, smiling again, still grasping my hand. “I was never really worried.”

I don’t even have the time to fully appreciate that compliment before the ambulance blows up. The doors and windows all blow out, glass shattering across the parking lot, and Buck and Bobby both duck. I don’t flinch. I’m immune to explosions by now.

“So, you guys hungry?” I ask casually, as they both straighten up, and they gawp at me like I have two heads.

*

Buck’s POV  
  


I can’t believe the things people will do for YouTube. I mean, cementing a guy’s head into a microwave?

As Jesse panics, tumbles into the pool and sinks like a deadweight, I follow him in without thinking. I dive into the pool and propel myself down to the floor after him. I hear a muted splash above me, and then Eddie is beside me, settling in on the other side of Jesse and helping me lift him, drag him back to the surface.

I didn’t ask him to follow me in. I didn’t expect anyone else to do it. But I’m glad he did.

Seems that the best way to cement a bond with someone – no pun intended – is to risk both your lives taking a grenade out of a man’s leg.

*

Hen’s POV

Since that grenade incident, Buck has started following Eddie around like a puppy. Buck always reminds me of a golden retriever anyway – it’s that huge smile and the hair and bouncy nature that does it – but this really reinforces it. Eddie takes the complete 180 in Buck’s attitude in his stride. He’s even opening up to Buck a little, his confidence flourishing under Buck’s encouragement. It’s kind of sweet.

Eddie is currently getting to grips with our First Responder pinball machine, and Buck is hovering next to him trying to get him to agree to a nickname.

“OK, what about GI? Like GI Joe. Hey, GI! You know, that’s a great nickname.”

“Sounds like gastrointestinal,” I offer my opinion from across the room, not even trying to act like I wasn’t listening to their conversation. I watch them out of the corner of my eye, and see Eddie grin and shake his head at Buck.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“Alright, everybody, listen up!” Bobby calls. “Got an announcement to make, I just got off the phone to the calendar people. They’ve made their choice.”

“Well, no hard feelings, no matter who won,” Buck says to Eddie, holding up his fist towards him, and Eddie brings his arm out to meet it in some fist to arm bump.

I must have missed the memo. This has spiralled into a full-on bromance already.

“That’s good, Buck,” Bobby says, smiling. “’Cause they didn’t pick you.”

“Well that’s obviously a fix!” Buck starts, then smiles. “Nah, congratulations anyway, _GI_!” He claps as he says it, and Eddie laughs, looking embarrassed.

“They didn’t pick him either.”

Eddie shrugs, looking unbothered.

“No?” Buck says, confused. He points to Bobby. “You?”

Bobby shakes his head.

“Nope.”

A crunch of celery turns all our attention to the kitchen, where Chim is using it to scoop peanut butter out of a jar. The penny drops for all of us at around the same time.

“What, you gotta be kidding me?” he says.

“No,” Bobby says. “Congratulations, Chim! Or should I say, Mr April!”

So my submission worked. My faith in humanity is slightly restored.

And of course Bobby and Athena were seeing each other. You didn’t have to be a genius to figure that one out. First fire house romance we’ve had though, made things a little more interesting. And it didn’t hurt to win 40 bucks off Buck and Chim for it.

And I didn’t miss Eddie defer to Buck, glancing his way for clarity when Athena and Bobby started making out. The night that grenade blew up in the back of the ambulance, it fused something in the process. Them.


	2. Aftershock

**Eddie’s POV**

“Hey dad. Do you think dogs know they’re dogs?”

Christopher’s mind never ceases to amaze me. He’s way cleverer than I am already, and his brain goes off on these tangents that I just can’t follow. I can’t keep up with his questions now, let alone when he gets to middle school and high school. I wish I had someone here with me who could answer his questions and bridge the gap between us. Someone who delighted in learning new facts and discussing outlandish theories in the same way he does. I watch him walk into school on his crutches with a pang in my chest.

*

**Buck’s POV**

We’re all reeling from the earthquake except Eddie. Unlike the rest of us, he’s distracted. Rather than looking at the havoc outside the windows, he’s staring at his phone instead. I wonder who he’s trying to call – his wife? He doesn’t wear a ring – girlfriend? Maybe his parents live round here. He’s not told us anything about his background yet. I can see the lines of worry creasing his face, and I can’t stop myself from asking.

“Is everything OK?”

“Yeah, there’s no service,” he replies, not looking up from his phone. “Texts won’t even get through.”

“Who are you trying to get a hold of?” I ask. He looks up at me, considering his answer. I’m so used to how open we are in the 118. Nothing is ever off limits. We share and talk about everything. Guess not everyone’s like that. But Eddie is super private. Must be an adjustment to be here with all of us, and for a moment I think he won’t answer me.

“My son,” he says finally. “Trying to reach my son.”

“Whoa, you’ve got a kid?”

He must have had him young. Eddie’s not that much older than me. And kids are a huge thing to keep hidden from the people you see almost every day. Hen talks about Denny constantly, you couldn’t miss the fact she has a kid.

“Christopher,” Eddie says, and turns his phone around to face me. I reach out, our fingers brushing as I hold the phone steady to look at the screen. The cutest kid I’ve ever seen grins back at me. Golden-brown curls, glasses on bright red strings, and a huge smile.

“He’s seven,” Eddie volunteers.

“And super adorable,” I smile, then glance up at him and explain. “I, I love kids.”

Always have. Kids are so innocent and full of wonder. Their curiosity about the world, their optimism, it floors me. I can’t wait to have my own some day.

“I love this one,” Eddie says quietly. “I’m all he’s got. His mother’s not in the picture.” He glances at me briefly, then out the window. I have so many questions.

Is Christopher’s mother an ex-girlfriend? Ex-wife? One night stand gone wrong? It’s so unusual for dads to be raising their kids alone, and I find myself wanting to know everything about Eddie and his past. But I can’t ask that. Not on the truck for sure. And not when we’re only just getting to know each other. I get the impression that Eddie’s trust is hard-won.

“He’s at school?” I ask instead.

“Yeah.”

I can see him withdrawing into himself, as he plays out all the worst case scenarios.

“Hey, I’m sure he’s fine,” I say, trying to be as reassuring as possible. The schools in this city were built with earthquakes in mind. They’ll have been prepared for today, even though this quake is bigger than any I’ve ever seen in LA. At a 7.1, it’s the largest earthquake in SoCal for 20 years.

*

**Eddie’s POV**

“You guys ever dealt with anything like this before?”

You don’t get all that many quakes in Texas, and I have never seen anything like this before. From their silence, I don’t think my crew has either.

The Hollywood Palm Hotel hangs over the road, practically at a 45 degree angle, as the Incident Commander updates us and Bobby briefs us for the day ahead. He eyes each one of us, his expression grave and understanding.

“I can’t order you guys to go inside that building and I’m not gonna judge you if you decide not to.”

But, of course, we all choose to stay.

Buck and I soon find a way to make ourselves useful, when a police officer points out a man in a bathrobe plastered against a window, still alive. I assess the distance and lean towards Buck.

“Buck, would you say that’s the 11th floor?”

“I would,” he replies. “We could take the ladder to the 4th floor, cut the distance in half.”

It’s a good plan, and there’s no one else I’d trust more to carry it out with. Once Bobby gives us the nod, we take off to our truck and begin the steep climb. But even when we’ve reached the top of the ladder we’re not even halfway up the side of the building. I smash a window and clear the glass out of the frame so we can clamber through.

“After Northridge, city spent $200m retro-fitting every school in LA,” Buck says suddenly behind me. “Ceiling tiles, lighting fixtures. Eddie, your kid is in the safest place he could be.”

I’m touched that he’s thought about it this much, that my mentioning Christopher has stuck with him and he’s dredged up this knowledge, just to reassure me. So I try to push the worry aside and focus on the task in hand, and my partner.

“Thought that was a high rise,” I reply, shooting him a smile, and he grins back at me.

*

**Buck’s POV**

I like rock climbing. But this is a whole other level.

“It’s only six flights. Not exactly Mount Everest,” Eddie says, angling his torch up the stairwell.

“Yeah,” I grunt, hauling myself up behind him. “Except Everest might not tip over and crush you like a bug.”

With a groan, the building rocks a little, and I tumble into the wall of the stairwell. Almost immediately, Eddie’s headlight lands on my face, checking I’m still there. He’s clinging to the handrail.

“You good, Buck?”

“Yeah.”

“Then let’s keep going.”

He might not have liked the GI nickname. But I think it suits him perfectly. How else does he manage to scale a vertical flight of stairs one-handed like it’s a climbing wall?

Once we’ve reached the 11th floor, we push ourselves out of the stairwell and skitter across the hall, slamming into the wall on the other side, and I try really hard not to think about the fact that we’re literally dangling in space at this point.

“Hello?” Eddie calls. “Hello? LAFD!”

“In here!”

Two voices, one male and one female, call out to us from a room close by. Forcing the door, it swings wide to reveal a room hanging on its side, and a huge, terrifying drop through open space to the ground below. We fastened ourselves to the ropes and secured them before opening the door, so when I step through and instantly lose my footing, I tell myself that it’s OK. Eddie’s got me. I grab hold of a handle from somewhere and look back at him. He holds my gaze and nods, and I let go and slide a little further into the room towards its two occupants. The man is the one we saw pressed against the glass windows dressed in nothing but a bathrobe. The woman is hooked around a pillar amongst the debris.

“Oh thank god,” she says. “Please, please get me out.”

“Whoa, whoa ma’am, I need you to just sit tight,” I call to her. “I will come and I will get you, OK?”

I glance back over my shoulder at Eddie and nod. He swings the second rope he holds in a backwards loop to gain momentum, then pitches it perfectly over to me. As he makes his way to me, the unhappy couple start arguing, and Eddie and I exchange a look. What have we gotten ourselves into here? As I secure Eddie’s rope to him I call across to the unhappy couple, trying to defuse the tension.

“First date?”

“Yeah right, he wishes.”

She tells us that he made a pass at her, asking him to shower with her, despite being a married man. I wrinkle my nose in disgust.

“Man, do you not watch the news over the past year?” I say, unable to help myself passing judgement. Maybe Eddie will call me out on being unprofessional, but someone had to say it.

“Yeah, seriously, catch up with the times,” Eddie agrees, and I feel vindicated.

The man in the bathrobe grumbles, bad-tempered and clearly unrepentant, and a part of me wonders at our bad luck to get this charmer to rescue today. Eddie, having drawn the short straw to save him, clambers carefully across to the window. I throw the woman a rope to secure herself with, wondering at how best to winch her up to me. Then an ominous creaking stops us all in our tracks.

“Don’t move!”

My head snaps instantly to Eddie, checking his position, making sure he’s safe.

“Don’t breathe.”

The glass is starting to crack.

*

**Eddie’s POV**

Buck’s got my rope, I can feel the tension on it as he grips tightly.

“Please don’t let this be the end,” the sleazebag says, ignoring my orders not to speak. I tell him my plan, to tie the webbing around him and get him away from that window. Across the room, Buck’s helping the blonde woman scale the tilted floor back to him. Then it all goes wrong.

The ground starts shaking beneath us, the building shuddering.

“Aftershock, aftershock!” Buck shouts. The woman screams, and I search wildly for anything to hang on to. The glass gives way and the guy in the bathrobe tumbles straight to the ground. There was nothing I could have done, he was gone in an instant. Then, with a slither, the rope goes too, and the woman starts to follow him.

“Eddie! Eddie!”

Buck is calling my name and I see her tumbling my way. I lunge forward, grabbing hold of her hand and halting her freefall out of the window. Behind us, Buck throws himself against the ground, hanging onto my rope with everything he’s got. I’m leaning out of a shattered window into space, my hand the only thing keeping this woman alive, as she dangles hundreds of feet above the ground.

*

Luckily, my grip holds. Luckily, the rope holds. Buck winches me and the woman, Ali, back into the room, and we return to the relative safety of the stairwell.

“That’s it, you’re doing great,” I tell Ali encouragingly, leading the way. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

“Yeah. It was my Major at the Rhode Island School of Design,” she says sarkily. Then she catches Buck’s eye and the face he pulls, and she backtracks. “Sorry. I’m sorry, sarcasm is my fallback for pretty much everything.”  
“I totally get it,” Buck says. Of course he does. I don’t know why that nags at me. Must be worry about Christopher shortening my patience.

We keep Ali between us so we know she’s not lagging behind, or walking into danger first. But when I stop and turn back for her, she ignores my outstretched hand and I see her mind take her somewhere else.

“Think he’ll still be on the sidewalk when we get down there?”

She looks to Buck for reassurance.

“No,” he tells her kindly. “No, we’re not going out that side anyway.”

“Let’s hustle up you two,” I say, my voice coming out shorter and harsher than I intended. “We don’t want to be here for the next aftershock.”

“Wait, what do you mean the _next_ aftershock?”

I don’t answer her, but reach out my hand again. This time she takes it, clambering down the handrails barefoot.

“You’ll be fine. He’s right behind you,” I say, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. Buck is sticking close to her, and I’m hardly surprised. Pretty blonde woman with a sarcastic tongue. Exactly what I imagine Buck wants in a woman. And she’d have to be blind not to have her head turned by him.

I look away from them, repressing a stab of irritation, and shine a light down the stairwell. Straight into a pile of collapsed rubble. Looks like the aftershock blocked our way out.

“Oh you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Buck says, seeing what I see.

“We’re not getting out this way,” I tell them. Ali couldn’t be less impressed when I tell her we’re going back up, but luckily I’m spared further conversation as the radio crackles into life and Bobby requests a roll call.

“Ladder 118 responding, Diaz, Buckley. We’re good, Cap.”

Chimney sounds off next. And then there’s silence.

“This is Captain Nash for Henrietta Wilson, do you copy?”

The silence stretches on too loud and too long. Buck and I exchange a quick, worried gaze, and I can see fear flicker in his eyes.

“Is that a friend of yours?” Ali asks, looking between us, trying to pick up on our silent conversation.

“Let’s keep moving,” I say, instead of answering. It won’t do Buck any good to dwell on what could have happened to Hen.

*

**Buck’s POV**

I pull Ali up into the corridor, and she leans her back against the wall as Eddie studies the map and decides we should head for another stairwell on this floor.

“What if it’s blocked too?” Ali asks. “Can’t you guys get a ladder into one of the windows?”

“It’s too risky. Building’s shifted too much,” Eddie explains shortly, and I nod my head in agreement.

“No, we got this, Abby. We’ll get you out of here.”

“Ali,” she corrects.

“What?”

“You called me Abby, my name’s Ali.”

Embarrassment squirms through my stomach, and I’m glad it’s dark in the corridor so no one can see me flush. Luckily Eddie’s further up the corridor, and he doesn’t turn around when I say it, so I hope it might have escaped his notice.

“Uh, yeah, sorry, umm...Abby is my...” I trail off and turn my back on her, throwing my arm up in exasperation. “It’s complicated!”

Ali laughs.

“Isn’t it always?”

“Uh, she’s in Europe,” I give an explanation that I know no one asked for, one Eddie’s probably sick of hearing. But it somehow makes me feel closer to Abby, talking about her here. It reminds me that I need to focus on her, not Eddie or Ali or anyone else. After my job, Abby comes first. “She’s travelling. And for the first time I’m glad she’s not around. Don’t need the worry.”

“Having someone to worry about sounds...nice, actually.” Ali’s unscrewed the cap of a miniature bottle of alcohol swiped from the maid’s trolley. “All I do is work.” She tips back her head and takes a swig, then catches Eddie’s judging look. “What? It’s after five. It’s not like it’s slowing us down.”

She tosses the bottle back on the cart, and then I hear it. Faint cries coming from another room on this floor.

“You guys hear that?” I ask.

We smash the door open, and Eddie swings into the apartment, gripping onto my arm. We both spin into the room, and find our patient on the floor covered in furniture. As I look for something to stabilise him on, Eddie conducts his initial assessment. It doesn’t sound great. Shortly after, Eddie slides across the floor to join me, looking effortlessly cool. I stumbled down here like I was ice skating. Ice skating and I don’t get on. Of course, GI Joe made it look like he was going down a water slide at a theme park. Huddled together out of the patient’s earshot, we confer. It sounds like a spinal injury, and we don’t have a backboard.

“Guys. What about this?”

Guess we weren’t as quiet as we thought we were, because Ali’s been searching too. And she comes up trumps with an ironing board.

“It could work, but how we gonna get him down the stairwell?” Eddie asks.

“Maybe we don’t use the stairwell,” I say.

*

**Eddie’s POV**

“At least we’re not blocked by any debris,” I say, trying to stay optimistic.

“Or an elevator,” Ali says, twisting her head around to see it hanging ominously over our heads. “Umm, how much do you think that weighs?”

“2500, 3000 pounds,” I hedge. It won’t reassure her, so I shouldn’t really tell her, but I can’t help it.

“I like our chances,” Buck says optimistically. And, to be fair, Buck’s crazy idea might just work, as long as we don’t get any more aftershocks.

“How are you doing, Patari?” I ask our patient. He’s barely with it, but his eyes are open and he’s breathing.

“And how are you feeling?” I hear Buck ask Ali, and have to stop myself from rolling my eyes. She’s in much better condition than Patari, I’m sure she’s doing OK.

“Not dead yet,” she quips in response.

I abseil the final distance to the next floor and stop. Buck still hasn’t moved to join me, still hovering beside Ali.

“Get down here, Buck!”

“You ready?” I hear him ask her.

“OK,” she sighs.

I’m trying to force the elevator door open with my feet and swing the ironing board in through the gap and Buck is abseiling down with Ali on his back when Patari gives voice to something I’ve been dreading.

“Is the building vibrating?”

My head shoots up in alarm as I hear a creaking overhead. The elevator is coming down.

I swing Patari in through the door, and steady myself. Buck and Ali are descending, but way too slowly for my liking. As the elevator screeches towards us, showering sparks everywhere, I yell up to them.

“Let’s go, Buck, move your ass!”

“All right, here we come, here we come!”

He drops, letting the rope slide and falling through the gap. The three of us tumble to the floor as the elevator rushes past, hitting the ground far below with a dull clang. Dust rises as I check Buck and Ali for injuries with no small measure of relief. Then she and I both gape at Buck.

“I told you I liked our chances,” he says cheerfully.

*

When we try to find the rest of our crew back at ground level, we learn that they’ve refused to come back. That Hen’s still missing. That they’ve asked for equipment and help, but no one has yet gone down because no one wants to defy a direct order.

All it takes it meeting Buck’s eye and I know we’re on the same page. Between us, we mount a protest with Incident Commander Williams. Well, a protest or a threat, one of the two. Even though Buck bends the rules a little too often, and I’m still in my probation, neither of us feel like doing as we’re told this time. It’s too important. Buck tells her that the three of our crew underground would move heaven and earth to save us if our roles were reversed. He tells her we’re going regardless, with all the equipment we can carry. He tells her that our team is down there, counting on us, and that it’s up to us to save them. When he puts his mind to it, Buck’s powers of persuasion are unrivalled. I’m impressed, and I can see Incident Commander Williams’s face soften as she listens to him and relents. And although we’re the ones leading the charge into the underground car park, she is right behind us.

After some searching, we finally pick Bobby and Chimney’s voices up, along with the rumble of a car engine.

“We have any more chain?”

“No, but I think it’s far enough out that we can get back behind it, push it out the rest of the way.”

“Looks like we got here just in time then,” Buck says, as we round the corner into view.

“Yeah, seems like they were planning on having all the fun without us,” I say cheerfully.

“Heard over the radio you needed some equipment and available hands down here,” Buck adds casually.

“You know you guys have disobeyed a direct order?” Bobby asks, but I can see amusement on his face and relief in his eyes, so it doesn’t feel like a telling off. Besides, we’re not alone.

“And they’ll be duly reprimanded...as soon we’re done here.”

Incident Commander Williams steps into view, along with the rest of the crews.

“Looks like you’re gonna have to reprimand yourself,” Bobby tells her, impressed.

“I’m seriously considering it. Your people are very persuasive, and persistent. One shot, Captain. Either way, no one’s coming to rescue us.”

*

**Buck’s POV**

Back on ground level, with the dust finally clearing from my lungs and our team all back in one piece, my phone buzzes, and I realise it’s the first time since the quake. I go to answer it, and then remember Eddie.

“Hey,” I call to him, just in front of me, loading gear into the truck. “Service.”

He gets my meaning and reaches straight for his phone too. He calls Christopher’s school, who have looked after him all this time while we were working. When he gets off the call, Eddie sags a little against the side of the truck in relief. He looks exhausted.

“Hey, you want a ride to his school?” I say the words in a rush, before I can stop myself. “I can drop you guys at home and pick you up tomorrow on the way to work?”

I’m not sure why I’m offering to drive Eddie home. I don’t know where he lives, or where Christopher’s school is. Both might be completely out of my way. Eddie has his own truck, and he’s not injured, so it’s not like he can’t drive himself. But I can’t pass up this opportunity to learn more about Eddie, and to meet the most important person in his life, who I know so much about yet have never seen. Besides, I can also see how keyed up Eddie is, the tension coiling through his body, and I know he needs to relax and get himself together before he sees his son. And I guess I’m not quite ready to head back to an empty apartment either.

I can see my offer has caught Eddie by surprise, and for a moment I think he’ll turn me down. But then he nods, and I get a half-smile.

“Sure...that’d be great. Thanks Buck.”

So once we get back to the fire house and Bobby dismisses us, we shower and change as quickly as possible before heading out into the night.

“Nice Jeep,” Eddie comments as I unlock my car. “Very California.”

I shrug. I know it’s a bit of a showy car, but when I saw it I couldn’t help myself. It was a car that I knew my father wouldn’t approve of, which had something to do with it. But it was also a symbol of the life I’d built for myself here. A life where I didn’t need my parents or my sister, or their love and approval, for all I’d ever seen of that.

“I grew up in Pennsylvania,” I say instead, unable to find the words to explain this to Eddie, and unwilling to make things weird between us by trying to explain by family dynamic. “You couldn’t get away with a car like this in the winter there. What’s the point of living in LA if you don’t make the most of the weather?”

We make good time through the deserted streets, side by side in comfortable silence. I can tell Eddie’s thoughts are already racing ahead to his son, and I’m content to mull over the events of the day alone while I drive. I’ve lost count of the number of aimless drives, sleepless nights and early morning runs I’ve had trying to process the things I’ve seen at work the day before. Sometimes I wish I had someone to talk it through with. But just having Eddie’s quiet, solid presence beside me makes it all flow a little easier, and when we pull up outside the darkened school I already feel like I’ve left the day behind.

Illuminated in the only light still shining from the building, I can see a teacher standing next to the boy I saw in the photograph. Christopher. Eddie’s out of the car almost before I stop, slamming the door and leaping for the steps. As I park up, I watch him rush down the corridor and drop to a crouch, scooping his son into his arms. His face is sheer joy and relief, and Christopher laughs as his dad embraces him.

I haven’t seen Eddie so unguarded and happy in the short time we’ve worked with him, and this whole other side to him catches me by surprise. What also surprises me is the way my heart aches watching them together. I’m suddenly really glad that I offered to drive Eddie home tonight.

*

**Eddie’s POV**

When Christopher and I make it back to the car, Buck jumps out and comes around to say hello to Christopher properly, smiling at him with what I think for a moment are nerves, but they disappear before I can pin them down.

“Christopher, this is my friend Buck,” I say, making introductions. “We work together.”

“Hey Buck.”

Buck drops to one knee to speak to him, looks him directly in the eye and speaks to him, not through me. It’s like he instinctively knew exactly how to speak to a kid, let alone a kid with CP, like Chris.

“Hey Christopher. Your dad has told me all about you. Sorry you had to stay at school so long today. I’ll get you home in no time.”

Buck keeps up a conversation with Christopher as he drives us home, and for once it’s nice to tune out a little, to close my eyes and lean against the head rest, exhaustion riding up in waves. They’re chatting happily away when one question in particular returns me to the present.

“Hey Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think dogs know that they’re dogs?”

Buck frowns, and I wince, wondering if he’s going to dismiss this as a dumb question. But I’ve underestimated Buck.

“You know, that’s a really interesting question, Christopher. Because how would a dog know that he was a dog?”

And they’re off. The rest of the way home is a debate about dogs. Buck throws himself into their discussion with enthusiasm, his face alight with interest. I can see that he’s not just saying this to humour Christopher, that something about the innocent, curious way he sees the world appeals to Buck on a whole level I just can’t appreciate in the same way. He and Christopher just _get_ each other, straight away. All those clever questions that I felt so out of my depth with, Buck takes in his stride and puzzles out the answers _with_ Chris, rather than trying to tell him what to believe.

I can see from my kid’s face that he’s already starstruck by this tall, handsome and easygoing firefighter, who takes him so seriously, like everything he says has value. And he’s not the only one feeling a little starstruck by Buck tonight.


	3. The Help He Needs

**Eddie’s POV**

The alarm blares into my brain, jolting me awake. 05:45 again already. The morning always rolls around so quickly. I allow myself a moment to breathe, to wake up, before I let the weight of all my responsibilities settle back on my shoulders.

As always, once I step out of my bedroom Christopher is my first priority. His room is like an explosion of colour next to mine, which is clean, minimal and practical. The only thing that is decorative more than functional is the blue quilt abuela made for me when Chris and I moved out here. I guess she thought LA might be a bit cold for me after Texas, and I appreciate the thought, and the love behind it. But I don’t need much. Instead, I pour as much colour and light and joy as I can into Christopher’s room, as much as I can afford. God knows he needs it.

I wake him with a knock on his door, and he greets me with that same, cheerful smile he starts every day with. I will never not be in awe of my kid and his positivity. We move through our same routine, the one I established when we moved to LA to help us bond, to help Chris settle into his new surroundings. Exercises, breakfast, getting washed and dressed. We go through the motions, and I smile at him in all the right places, while my mind is really racing ahead, thinking through the day and working out where we need to be and when, and what I need to bring, and all the things I haven’t done yet.

Christopher insists on picking his own clothes and dressing himself, but I stop in the doorway briefly to check on him and make sure he’s doing OK. It’s not easy to let him do it all himself. I can see him struggling to put his sock on, and take half a step forward before I stop myself. But Christopher is proud, and stubborn. He’s always so determined to be independent and do things his own way. Shannon always said he took after me for that, but I think it was a bit of both of us. So I force myself to lean against the door frame instead, and fold my arms across my chest so I’m not tempted to try and help him. The beaming smile he gives me when he does it by himself and looks up at me, ready to start the day, makes it all worthwhile.

It’s a lesson I remind my abuela of when I drop Christopher off at her house. As she watches Chris pick his way carefully along the path with his crutches towards the house, she chides me.

“Help him out!”

“He wants to do it,” I tell her, and she relents, knowing how important it is to both of us. Chris triumphantly climbs the steps to abuela’s house.

“Thanks for taking him.”

“Taking him isn’t a problem,” she smiles. “Giving him back? That’s the hard part.”

I smile, and then remember I’m up against the LA traffic and need to get to work. I start for the truck, but don’t make it far.

“Edmundo! Where’s the fire?”

Ah, abuela, what a comedian. I jog back to her and kiss her cheek, and she makes the sign of the cross over me, and wishes me luck for the day. I kiss Christopher goodbye and jog back to the truck.

*

**Buck’s POV**

The Saddle Ranch on Sunset is a tourist trap if ever I saw one. From the outside, it wouldn’t look out of place in some old western town, with carved horses rearing up and out over the sidewalk. _Animal_ by Def Leppard blares out of the open doors and windows as we jump out of the truck, grab our equipment and head inside. The two girls waiting for us at the front, one in a black top and one in a pink top, don’t do anything to hide their staring.

“Holy crap, you are hot,” Pink Top says to me as we pass her.

Inside, it’s like a bachelorette party on crack. A girl rides a bucking bronco inside surrounded by her friends, who all start cheering when they see us.

“Hey guys, the strippers are here!” Black Top shouts, leading us through the bar. I try my hardest to ignore them all, and we head out back to the parking lot, where a giant orange monster truck waits for us. We can see the back end of a woman in jeans and a plaid, sleeveless shirt kneeling on the ground, and a guy standing beside her.

“What’s her name?”

“Betty.”

“Jennifer,” an annoyed voice corrects him from inside the tailpipe.

“Sorry, I thought you meant my truck.”

“This is your truck?” Bobby asks, zeroing in on him. He panics and hurries to clarify.

“It’s not like I backed into her, she did this of her own free will.”

“But you dared her to,” Pink Top corrects him.

“We were flirting!” he argues back.

“Your idea of flirting with a girl is daring her to stick her head in your tailpipe?” Eddie asks disbelievingly.

I splutter with laughter and slide under the truck to check out the pipe, but Eddie’s words stay with me, and I can’t help but wonder what his idea of flirting is.

“Hi Jennifer, LAFD, how are you feeling?” Chim asks, as Eddie kneels by my legs and passes me tools to inspect the pipe and see if I can detach it from underneath. After our rocky start, we’ve developed a pretty good working relationship.

I’ve never had a partner before – we don’t really do that in the fire department, it’s more a thing you see with the cops – but Hen and Chim have always had each other, and they’re best friends too so it’s like they have their own connection, their own partnership, that I can’t be a part of. But, with Eddie, we seem to get each other on some level. It’s nice to have someone I can rely on so completely, who works so well with me that sometimes it’s like he’s reading my mind. I could get used to this.

“These things are meant to increase the power to the engine,” I said, sliding back out and almost into Eddie. His head leans in close to mine as we examine the pipe again.

“TUC 230 Saw should do the job,” Bobby suggests.

“Oh yeah, like a knife through butter,” I agree.

“Chim!” Bobby calls, standing up.

“Way ahead of you, Cap.”

“What?!”

The owner of this orange monster is not happy with our solution.

“No, I spent 1200 bucks on that tailpipe!”

“Then you might wanna close your eyes during this part,” Bobby warns him, taking the saw from Chim and getting ready to slide under the truck to cut Jennifer loose.

“Just type your number in my phone and then I’ll text you so you have mine.”

Pink Top is back, leaning in towards me with her phone already out. She’s wasted, but I know that this is something she would do without thinking if she were sober too. I don’t like her attitude, her overwhelming confidence that I’m just going to go along with it and give her my number. I’m not that easy. Not any more.

“Thanks, but I actually have a girlfriend,” I tell her. I can’t help myself when I add, “And I need to focus right now so my captain doesn’t cut your friend’s head off.”  
Across from me, Black Top is zoning in on Eddie.

“Hi,” she says, trying to catch his attention. “Do you have Snapchat?”

“No,” he replies shortly, discomfort written all over his face. “And I don’t think I’m what you’re looking for, I have a son.”

“That’s great, so do I,” she replies, not phased by his admission. Eddie determinedly avoids her gaze.

“I think I’m gonna puke!” Jennifer shouts from inside the tailpipe, bringing us all back to the job in hand with relief.

“Better not!” Pink Top shouts to her. “These fire guys are totally hot.”

For the first time I really get what it must feel like for women getting ogled by men. No wonder they hate it so much. It’s pretty uncomfortable to be looked at like a piece of meat. Makes me glad to have Abby and not be wading through the dating minefield. But then the thought of Abby makes my stomach twist uncomfortably. It’s been so long since I heard from her. I feel like I’m drifting around her apartment, our old life together, like a ghost.

“OK, what say we move the peanut gallery a few steps further over this way?” Chim says, coming to our rescue and moving the girls – and the crowd – away from us. Hen and Eddie hold Jennifer still as Bobby slides under the truck with the saw and cuts her free.

“We need lube.”

“I have some!”

Of course Pink Top has lube in her bag. She tosses it over, the tailpipe comes off, and the crowd applauds us as Jennifer blinks and breathes fresh city air. The first thing she sees is Eddie kneeling in front of her.

“Wow, you really are hot,” she says, gawping at him.

“Would you like us to transport you to the hospital?” Hen asks, radiating disapproval even as she keeps her expression neutral.

“She just needs another drink,” Pink Top says dismissively.

“No, what she needs to do is go home,” Bobby says sternly. “All three of you do. In a cab.”

He tries to offer Jennifer some advice, but I can see from her glazed eyes that she’s not paying him any attention, and when she giggles after his speech my hunch is confirmed. So we give up and leave them to it.

“Condolences on Betty.”

Hen hands the sawed section of tailpipe back to the truck owner, and Eddie cuts away through the crowd. I follow, slowly slipping the braces of my work pants off my shoulders.

“Hey, so is your son really the reason you don’t date?”

I drop my voice low and lean in close to him so no one else can hear. I know it’s personal, and I don’t know why it’s so important for me to ask this question, _right now_ , for me to know the answer, _right now_ , but it is. I’m not expecting an answer – Eddie’s so private and he’s still new, hasn’t figured out that we all tell each other everything yet – but to my surprise I get one.

“That and,” he shrugs and meets my gaze, “they weren’t my type.”

I glance back over my shoulder at them, and my brain catalogues their looks, their style, their manners, and files it away as not being Eddie’s type.

“Not mine either,” I say, bumping his shoulder as we walk away. “Not anymore.”

He laughs. Buck 1.0 is a well-known station story, and Hen and Chim took huge pleasure in telling Eddie all about it in his first few weeks with us. It made me kinda embarrassed to have them retell it. It’s not something I’m proud of, and I didn’t want Eddie to think less of me for it. Maybe that’s why I’m pushing so hard to find out about his dating life. What other reason could there be?

“No, I’m talking, in general, I mean...” I trail off, unsure how to push it any further.

“It’s complicated when you have a kid.”

He says it like that’s it, like every single parent signs away their right to date and have sex until their kid leaves home. I don’t buy it.

“Come on, that’s a weak excuse,” I laugh. Looking like he does? He could have any straight girl in the city.

“You live in your _invisible girlfriend’s_ house,” Eddie points at me, then points back at himself, “and you’re telling _me_ about weak excuses?”

Dude, uncalled for. But, before I can retaliate, Eddie’s phone rings, and he shoots me a look to excuse himself from the conversation before he answers. He doesn’t move out of earshot, so I can’t help but listen as I peel my gloves off.

“Hello?”

He’s silent for a moment, just listening to whoever’s on the other end of the line, but I know something’s wrong because I can see the tension tightening his face, the frown that creases his forehead.

“What? Which one?”

*

**Buck’s POV**

I don’t know why I insist on accompanying Eddie inside the hospital. He didn’t need me to come with him, but I wanted to. And he didn’t stop me.

“My aunt,” he says to me, as we round the corner and he sees a stylishly-dressed woman in the waiting area. I nod, and we approach her together.

“Tia!” Eddie calls to her and she stands, relief washing the tension from her face. “What’s wrong? Is Christopher OK?”

They hug and she sighs.

“Yes. Being Prince Charming.” She gestures behind us. Christopher is balanced on his crutches, laughing away with two of the nurses on duty. They clearly adore him already. It’s hard not to, he’s such a cute kid.

“He’s peachy,” Eddie’s aunt says. “It’s your abuela. She broke her hip.”

Eddie’s face instantly floods with worry.

“What? How?”

“She was out back on the steps, calling him to come inside and she lost her balance. Christopher called 9-1-1. The rescue got there really quick.”

My heart goes out to seven year-old Christopher having to call 9-1-1, but I’m also impressed with his quick thinking. Eddie must have drummed it into him to call them in an emergency.

“I want to see her,” Eddie says now.

“She’s sleeping now,” his aunt replies, before her gaze swings towards me like a spotlight.

“And, uh, who is this?”

Her expression is curious and shrewd. That and the composed, graceful way she stands, with her hands folded together in front of her cape, and I wonder if she used to be a dancer, or a teacher. I feel a little intimidated.

“This is Buck, we work together,” Eddie says, and I nod. Usually I would go on the charm offensive with relatives, but in the circumstances it doesn’t seem right.

“Huh...I thought you just dressed alike,” she says.

“This is my aunt, Josephina,” Eddie says. “Pepa.”

“Hi,” I manage to say, and she smiles at me before turning her attention back to Eddie.

“You can’t keep doing this, Eddie. You can’t keep leaving him with her, she’s not up to it.”

“I know,” he interrupts, and I get the feeling this is a lecture he’s had before. “I know, and I’m sorry. I’m trying to find some permanent help, it’s just too many forms to fill out, it’s worse than the VA.”

“I can’t believe your _gringa_ ex stuck you with all of this,” Pepa says vehemently, and I have to really control my expression then. Because I’ve been wondering since I met Eddie what the deal is with Christopher’s mother.

“I’m not stuck, tia,” Eddie says in a low voice, and I try to make myself invisible, because I can tell how much he doesn’t want to be having this conversation at all, let alone with me listening in. But Aunt Pepa is having none of it.

“I’ll keep him tonight, but you need to get this figured out.”

She stares at Eddie, and her eyes seem to bore into him.

“Daddy!”

Christopher’s seen us, and calls to Eddie. He turns away from his aunt, frown lingering for just a few seconds too long, before he fixes a smile in place and goes over to Christopher, leaving me with Pepa. We both watch him scoop Christopher up into his arms, laughing with him.

“Must be rough,” I say, my heart soaring as I watch them together.

“Raising any child alone is rough,” Pepa replies. “My nephew is a saint. But I pray for him anyway.”

It’s not until much that I wonder who Pepa thought I was, if not Eddie’s colleague.

*

**Pepa’s POV**

I notice the good-looking man who accompanies Eddie into the hospital immediately. He has a kind face, and I notice his concern for Eddie and Christopher in his expression, the way he angles his body towards Eddie. He is the first person that Eddie has brought to meet the family after that good-for-nothing ex of his left, and they certainly make a handsome couple. I wait for Eddie to introduce us, but he’s not forthcoming so I do it myself. When Eddie tells me they are only colleagues, I cover my surprise with a comment about their matching clothes instead.

*

**Eddie’s POV**

Christopher is a hit with the 118. I should have known. He’s such a charmer, I’ve yet to find anyone who doesn’t take to him as soon as they get to know him. Buck and I bring him back to the station, where Hen and Chimney make a big fuss of him, and laugh at all his jokes, and tell him stories during our downtime. It’s only when Bobby appears that I realise how unprofessional this must seem. I stand up as guilt twists in my stomach. I know this is a workplace, not a day care, but I had nowhere else to bring him.

“Are you any good at the hose, kid?” Bobby asks.

“I can try,” Christopher says, ever the optimist.

“I’m so sorry, Cap,” I say quietly. “My aunt’s trying to get off work early but until then I, I didn’t know where to take him.”

“Yeah you did, right here,” Bobby replies. He glances to my left. “Buck gave me a heads up, already cleared it with the chief.”

I look over and meet Buck’s gaze, staggered. He nods in acknowledgement, and I can only stare and give him a tiny nod in response. It’s been a long time since someone else had my back. And he did it in such a quiet, understated way. The Buck everyone sees on the surface is full of swagger, can’t help bragging about what he’s done. Everyone told me he was a good guy, but it’s only now I see how much.

The bell rings, and everyone files out to the truck. And today, Christopher gets to come too. On the truck, Chimney tells Chris all about the headset.

“These are great see, because we can talk to each other. Though sometimes I wish I had a mute button for Buck.”

The horn blares in the front – Buck’s riding up front today so Christopher can take his seat next to me – and Buck glances back over his shoulder at Chimney.

“Oh sorry, were you saying something?”

Chris notices the rebar scar on Chim’s head and asks him about it, glowing when Chim praises his observation skills.

“You ever have surgery?” he asks.

“Yeah, two times.”

“Three times,” I correct him, glancing at Chim, who frowns in sympathy.

“Oh, you got me beat. Now I feel kinda lame.”

“Because you _are_ ,” Hen says, with perfect timing, and Christopher cracks up. Hen leans forward to meet Chris’s eye.

“Did your dad ever tell you why we call him Chimney?”

Chim shakes his head and mouths ‘No’ at her urgently across the truck. Buck is grinning back at us from the front, waiting to see if Hen will tell the story. When Chim ups his protests, Hen relents.

“I’ll tell you the story later,” she laughs to Christopher.

At our calls, Bobby takes over, talking Chris through what we’re doing so I can concentrate on my job. Back at the fire house, Chimney finds him two rolls of hose so he can stand high enough to play the pinball machine. Bobby gets him a glass of milk and a toasted cheese sandwich. But the best part is when we take him to the pole (that barely ever gets used), and Hen and Chimney feed him down from the top floor, while Buck and I wait to catch him on the ground floor.

“You’re a born firefighter!” Chim calls after him, as we support him down to the ground.

“You nailed it, kid!” I tell him proudly, and Buck leans on the pole and beams down at Christopher. Then Pepa rounds the side of the truck.

“OK, fun’s over,” I say, feeling a little like I’ve been caught out messing around during lessons by a teacher. The others all call out their goodbyes as I lead Chris over to her. "Good job today, Christopher,” Bobby calls after him.

“You too, Cap!” he beams as he motors over to Pepa.

I can’t believe how good everyone’s been about this. I know they say that your ladder can become like family, but I never believed it til now. The Army was a kind of family, for a while, but never like this. I cannot express to them all how much this means to me. So I stride back over to Bobby and hug him instead, trying to let him know in that simple action how grateful I am for today, and how lucky I feel to have found this house.

*

**Buck’s POV**

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Eddie and his situation with Christopher all day.

“I just feel bad for him, you know.”

I’m rummaging in the fridge for food while Maddie pours a glass of wine.

“Eddie, I mean, not Christopher. Christopher’s great. He’s smart, adorable, funny, in a kid way, just needs a little extra help.”

I can’t explain how amazing Christopher is. The more I get to know Eddie, of course it follows that his kid would be awesome, but I think Christopher’s the most incredible kid I’ve ever met.

“It’s cerebral palsy, right?” Maddie asks, her face full of sympathy.

“Aunt Pepa said he got stuck in the birth canal, there were some complications, and then...”

“Well did Aunt Pepa explain what’s happening with the childcare situation?” Maddie interrupts. “Because there are programs.”

“Eddie’s working on it,” I say, almost defensively. “He’s got insurance and there’s other stuff for city, state and county, but the requirements are all different. He can apply for one and that can disqualify you from another, it’s all a giant, bureaucratic mess. I can’t get my head around it.”

“I was a nurse, remember?” Maddie says. “The only people who truly navigate a bureaucracy are the people who work inside it.”

“It shouldn’t be that way though,” I argue, rattled by the injustice of the system. “Eddie always wondering how to take care of Christopher, and Christopher feeling like a burden on his dad.”

“Well, Eddie doesn’t feel that way, does he?” Maddie asks, following me into the living room and leaning against the door frame.

“Not even a little. He uh, loves that kid like crazy. He’s a really great dad.”

I smile to myself as I say it. I’ve never seen a dad as devoted as Eddie. My own dad left a lot to be desired, so I am full of nothing but admiration for Eddie.

Maddie tilts her head to one side and crosses the room to me. Snacking on carrot sticks and hummus, I’m caught off guard by her next question.

“So, does this boy crush on Eddie mean that you’re finally ready to move on from Abby?”

Her voice is casual, but I swear it cuts straight through me. My face heats up, and I stop chewing.

“That’s cute,” I manage to say. But suddenly my appetite has dropped right away. And it doesn’t help when Maddie tells me she’s found herself an apartment. She’s leaving me again.

**Maddie’s POV**

Buck won’t stop talking about Eddie and Christopher. He’s so caring, so full of compassion, that it doesn’t surprise me he saw a family in need and wanted to help them. But the way he keeps talking about Eddie, I can’t help but feel it’s something a little more than that.

“It shouldn’t be that way though,” Buck says. “Eddie always wondering how to take care of Christopher, and Christopher feeling like a burden on his dad.”

Hmm.

“Well, Eddie doesn’t feel that way, does he?” I ask carefully as I follow him into the living room. Buck shakes his head.

“Not even a little. He uh, loves that kid like crazy.” A soft smile crosses his face as he sits down. “He’s a really great dad.”

I’m definitely getting vibes here. May as well go for broke.

“So, does this boy crush on Eddie mean that you’re finally ready to move on from Abby?”  
I keep my voice light and teasing as I walk across the room to join Buck on the sofa. But I don’t miss the way he freezes on the spot, mid-chew. Or the flush that creeps up his neck.

“That’s cute,” he says, dodging the question. And I decide to take pity on him and change the subject.

*

**Eddie’s POV**

When Buck asked if I could help his sister move to her new apartment, I agreed automatically. Even though time management is difficult with Christopher. Even though I’m always running on empty, struggling to find enough strength to get through each day. Because I know what it’s like to move in somewhere by yourself, and I thought she might need all the help she could get. And because Buck helped me out with Christopher, and I wanted to repay the favour by helping his sister. I’m starting to regret it though, because everything’s out on the shelves, and I don’t see any boxes.

“Thought you said we were helping your sister move,” I call to Buck. “Doesn’t look like she’s packed anything.”  
“All this stuff is Abby’s,” he says, and I catch a flicker of emotion on his face as he says it, too quick for me to name. So this is Abby’s place. I turn a different gaze on the apartment now, examining everything for any sense of this mysterious woman at the centre of Buck’s life. It’s a very grown up place, with lots of ornaments and artwork. It’s nothing like Buck. I can’t find any trace of his personality here, nothing of him at all besides his physical presence.

“I lied about the whole moving thing,” Buck confesses. “I mean my sister is moving,” he adds hurriedly, “it’s just, she doesn’t really have that much stuff.”

I don’t like the sound of this. I feel unbalanced, like we’re back in that hotel during the earthquake.

“What’s going on, Buck?”

“I asked you here because there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Oh God. It had better not be those women from the bar. We’d better not be going on a double date. There’s nothing I want to do less right now. My eyes slide closed, and I look away and then back at him.

“You didn’t set me up, did you?”

He’s still grinning.

“Just, just trust me. This woman is exactly what you need.”

There’s a knock at the door.

“She’s here.”

Buck sounds gleeful, actually gleeful, and I want to punch him in the face. I don’t, because I’m better than that. I try instead to school my expression into polite and welcoming, wondering how long I’ll have to endure this torture before I can make my escape.

“Buckaroo!”

A joyful voice shouts at the door, and I hear Buck laughing and exchanging greetings. She must know him well if she calls him by the same nickname Chimney uses.

“Goodness, I missed your face!”

I pad warily into the kitchen, and am taken aback. This is not what I was expecting.

A respectable-looking black woman with a kind face that’s clearly used to smiling stands at the door. She’s definitely too old to be either my type or Buck’s, and I can see a wedding ring on her finger. What _is_ going on?

“I’ve missed you too, come on in. Eddie, this is my friend, Carla.”

Nice to meet you, Eddie.”

She holds out a hand and I shake it automatically, responding with the manners my parents drilled into me.

“Likewise.”

“Carla is LA’s finest home healthcare aid,” Buck explains. “She has years of experience navigating giant bureaucracies and,” Buck pauses and looks over at me, a flicker of uncertainty on his face for the first time, “I thought she could help you figure out how to get Christopher the help that he needs.”

“I’m red tape’s worst nightmare,” Carla promises, but I barely hear her. I’m relieved that it’s not a blind date, but even that is eclipsed by the gratitude swelling in my chest as I smile at Buck, and give him the tiniest nod. I can’t believe he did this. I can’t believe that he remembered my complaints about forms and systems, that he thought about it in such detail and cared enough about me and Christopher to track someone down who could help us. I’m speechless. There are no words. A smile is all the thanks I can give him.

“I’ll get you through this in no time,” Carla assures me. “Now, let’s go sit down and see what we’re working with, besides that perfect bone structure.”

I like Carla already. And, with her determination and positivity, that heavy weight on my shoulders feels so much lighter already.

**Buck’s POV**

Maybe it was the way Aunt Pepa worded it. But I was lying awake that night and it suddenly occurred to me that I know the closest thing to a real-life saint. And she might just be the solution to Eddie’s problems.

I knew I had to lie to get Eddie here. He would never agree to this otherwise, to accept help like some charity case. He’s too proud.

“What’s going on, Buck?” Eddie asks me suspiciously, once I confess to him that Maddie isn’t actually moving today.

“I asked you here because there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Eddie’s eyes slide closed, and I see dread creep across his face.

“You didn’t set me up, did you?”

He thinks I’d bring him here, to Abby’s place, to set him up with someone? Not my style. He could have any woman he wants, he doesn’t need me as a wingman. And, despite my questioning at the bar, I don’t actually want to set him up. No, I’ve got something way better lined up.

“Just, just trust me. This woman is exactly what you need.”

I’m playing with him just a little here, but it’s too much fun not too. There’s a knock at the door.

“She’s here,” I say, still grinning. Eddie looks resigned to his fate, and I go to the door.

“Buckaroo!”

I laugh and pull Carla into a hug.

“Goodness, I missed your face!” she cries, and I nod because it’s so good to see her. It’s a little bittersweet, because seeing her makes me feel a little closer to Abby. Which reminds me of just how far away from Abby I really am. But I need to reclaim Carla as my friend, not just Abby’s. And she’s what Eddie needs right now, and that is more important.

“I’ve missed you too, come on in. Eddie, this is my friend, Carla.”

Nice to meet you.”

He’s thrown. I can tell he thought I was setting him up. It gives me a kick of satisfaction to throw him off balance. It will make Carla’s actual role a much sweeter surprise.

“Likewise,” Eddie says politely, shaking Carla’s hand.

“Carla is LA’s finest home healthcare aid. She has years of experience navigating giant bureaucracies and,” I pause, hoping he won’t take this the wrong way. All I want to do is help. “I thought she could help you figure out how to get Christopher the help that he needs.”

“I’m red tape’s worst nightmare,” Carla promises, and Eddie sends me the brightest smile I’ve seen from him yet. It lights me up like the glow of a campfire on a cold night. I beam back at him, elated. He’s on board, and I know Carla will make life so much easier for him and Christopher.

“I’ll get you through this in no time,” Carla promises Eddie, sweeping into the living room and knowing that we’ll follow her. “Now, let’s go sit down and see what we’re working with, besides that perfect bone structure.”

I can’t keep the grin off my face.

**Carla’s POV**

I was surprised to hear from Buck. Not that I wasn’t glad to see him, but since Abby left he’s been awful quiet. When he explained to me on the phone that he his friend was a single dad in need of help with his son, it made sense. He’s found a new good cause to champion.

“Buckaroo!” I cry as he opens the door, that sweet face lighting up as he sees me. Buck laughs and pulls me into a hug. “Goodness, I missed your face!” I tell him, leaning back to examine him. Has he lost weight? He looks sad, under that smile. It can’t help living in Abby’s apartment, surrounded by all her things and the memory of her. I don’t think she’s ever coming back, and he must know that too, deep down. But he’s gotta get there on his own.

“I’ve missed you too, come on in,” Buck says. He turns to the kitchen, where one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen is waiting, watching us uncertainly. He’s all jaw and angles – the definition of tall, dark and handsome.

“Eddie, this is my friend, Carla.”

“Nice to meet you, Eddie.”

I offer him my hand to shake and he takes it politely.

“Likewise.”

“Carla is LA’s finest home healthcare aid,” Buck explains. “She has years of experience navigating giant bureaucracies,” he beams at me, “and I thought she could help you figure out how to get Christopher the help that he needs.”

Eddie sends Buck a dazzling smile and I wonder, just for a moment, if there’s something more going on here that Buck isn’t telling me. But I decide to let it go for now. Buck will tell me when he’s ready.

“I’m red tape’s worst nightmare,” I promise Eddie, and he grins at me too. “I’ll get you through this in no time.” I sail past them both into the living room. “Now, let’s go sit down and see what we’re working with, besides that perfect bone structure.”

I think this is going to be a lot of fun.


	4. A New Kind of Pollen

**Maddie’s POV**

This place ticked every box on my list. It’s in Eagle Rock, just ten minutes from work – a must in LA where traffic is so bad. There’s parking and security, and I’m getting extra security installed. The shadow of Doug haunts me everywhere I go, so I’m taking no chances.

Turns out there are perks to having a firefighter for a brother, because when you’re moving into a new place he brings along his friends to help. It also doesn’t hurt that they’re all ridiculously strong, so if Doug were to show up he’d have to get through all three of them first. I don’t mention this to Buck though. The depth of my paranoia would only worry him.

It would have taken all day for the two of us to move everything in, but with help from Eddie and Chimney we’re getting it done in half the time. And why did Buck never tell me about Chimney? He’s cute. And funny, and sweet. Wow, I’ve known him for about half an hour and I’m already reading way too much into him. Slow it down, Buckley.

I take a moment to regain my composure and head outside to check on Buck and Eddie, who are supposed to be bringing my new sofa inside. I get there in time to hear Buck’s take on this.

“Maybe we pop the hinges off the door, or use the jaws of life?”

Eddie points at Buck like he’s solved world hunger. I’m not having this – they must be able to work out a normal way to get it through the door.

“No no no no, it has to fit, I measured it twice,” I tell them. “Can’t you guys just, you know, turn it around the other way?”

“Then the pizza would slide off,” Buck says, looking at me like that should be obvious.

“You have _pizza_ on my new _sofa_?”

“It’s a classic,” Buck protests. I throw him a disparaging look, snatch the boxes off the new, _white_ , sofa, and hurry back inside to Chimney.

“I’m sorry, you were showing me the security app,” I smile at him.

“Alright, pivot,” I can hear Eddie ordering Buck from outside.

“Lift with your legs!” Chimney shouts to them, then goes right back to helping me. I get a bit caught up in what he’s telling me, so I forget about Buck and Eddie until they eventually make it through the door and settle the sofa on the floor.

“Hey, thank you guys for helping me on your day off,” I call to them. I mean, I expect nothing less from my baby brother, but Chimney and Eddie didn’t have to come along too.

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie says brusquely, taking the pizza boxes off me. “Plates?”

“Kitchen, countertop,” I reply. Today is also the first time I’ve met Eddie, though I felt I knew him already thanks to Buck. He’s tall, dark and handsome, and I’m not surprised Buck felt threatened by him to begin with. Not that you could tell that now, Buck clearly worships the ground he walks on.

“Beer?” Chimney asks.

“Also kitchen, fridge.”

“Clever,” he replies, following Eddie. I can’t wipe the smile from my face. As soon as I’m confident he’s out of earshot, I turn to Buck.

“He is so cute,” I exclaim, gesturing after Chimney. Buck’s expression softens and he smiles.

“Yeah, he gets that a lot,” he says, staring after him as he draws level with me. “You should meet his kid though.”

What?

“Wait, Chimney has a kid?” I ask. He never mentioned that. No one told me he had a kid.

Buck’s face clouds with confusion.

“No, I thought you meant...”

He trails off, embarrassed, as realisation dawns. Fighting to keep my face straight, I follow the boys to the kitchen.

“ _Chimney_?” I hear Buck saying as I go. But I’m hardly paying attention. So Buck thinks Eddie’s cute does he? I’m becoming more and more convinced that my comment about a boy crush was right on the money.

*

**Buck’s POV**

It’s like tornado season when we reach our next call. We’re responding to a fallen helicopter wedged in the bleachers at a park, with the engine on and rotor blades still spinning. As we duck for cover and work out a plan of attack, Bobby looks to Eddie to switch the helicopter engine off once we get the passengers out.

“I’m just worried about the dynamic rollover,” Eddie says.

“The dynamic what?” I shout.

“You change the weight ratio, by pulling people out, whole thing could tip over, rotors could snap off,” he tells me. I appreciate how Eddie always takes the time to explain stuff to me. I have a lot of questions, and he doesn’t tell me off for asking them like some people do.

“Visors down, let’s go!” Bobby shouts, and we duck low and run for the bleachers. Eddie does his military hero thing, as usual, and we get the pilot and passenger safely out.

“How are you doing?” Athena asks, as Hen and I check her over.

“I’m not sure. How’s Trent, is he OK?”

“Your pilot’s gonna be just fine.”

I know that voice.

“Hey, do me a favour,” I say enthusiastically. “Uh, say that, ‘On the 405, speeds are under five miles an hour, making your morning commute a rough one’.”

“Seriously?” Hen asks, and I realise that it sounds to them a little like I have some kind of weird fetish. I can feel my face flush as I struggle to cover myself.

“I know that voice, that’s ‘Taylor Kelly reporting’, right? Sky Channel News 8.”

“That’s me,” the passenger replies, smiling, and I’m suddenly aware of both Athena and Hen gawping at me incredulously. I can feel their judgement without having to meet their gaze, and stick my hands in my pockets self-consciously.

“Wow, it’s, it’s weird to hear that voice come out of a face.”

“Uh, thank you?”

“You have helped me beat traffic in this city more times than you will ever know.”

“Well you might wanna Uber tomorrow.”

**Hen’s POV**

Oh my God, this is embarrassing. It’s lucky for Buck that he’s a good-looking guy, because his pickup lines suck. Athena and I exchange despairing looks.

*

**Eddie’s POV**

“Excuse me!”

Bobby’s voice rings out across the fire house, and I glance up from where I’m working out in the gym. Taylor Kelly, the reporter we rescued from the helicopter a few days ago, is here, accompanied by a cameraman.

“Captain Nash, I’m Taylor Kelly, we met the other day when –”

“I know who you are, Miss Kelly, I just don’t understand what you’re doing here.” Bobby interrupts, his tone abrupt. “Please don’t film in here,” he adds to her cameraman.

“Why not?”

“Because...it’s rude.”  
Bobby keeps putting a hand out to try and cover the lens. I listen in, but I have no intention of getting involved. Every reporter in this town is looking to make a name for themselves, and they don’t mind stepping over other people to do it. Cap’s got this in hand.

“Oh. They didn’t call you yet,” Taylor Kelly says, and I can see the smirk she holds back with difficulty.

“Who?” Bobby asks suspiciously.

“Captain! Chief’s Office on the line.”

Bobby marches off in the direction of his office, and I have a nasty feeling I know where this is going.

“Uh, Taylor Kelly?”

Uh-oh. Buck’s spotted her. And with Cap gone, he’s unsupervised.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“Just call me Taylor,” she says. “I don’t like the flirtatious edge to her voice. She wasn’t using it on Bobby just now, she’s put it on for Buck.

“How was your drive in? Did you miss me?”

Hen teased Buck for flirting with Taylor Kelly for the rest of the day after we rescued her from that helicopter. Now it seems I’m about to see the live action replay. I could really do without it.

“My morning definitely wasn’t the same without you,” he smiles, and I’m surprised at the hint of self-consciousness in his voice. It’s at odds with what everyone’s told me about Buck the Player. Seems to me he’s less sure of himself than everyone thinks.

I should be keeping a low profile. I know exactly what will happen if I get involved and they dig into my background. I can see the headline already: decorated military veteran, single father, firefighter. The last thing I want to do is walk over there and face those cameras.

But I can’t leave Buck out there on his own. For one thing, he might run that mouth of his and say something we’d rather he didn’t. But it’s something else too. The predatory look in Taylor Kelly’s eyes as she looks at Buck needles under my skin, and before I know it I’m replacing the weights with a rattle, getting to my feet and striding across the room to them.

“Yeah, how are you feeling? Any side effects after the crash?”

She looks slightly taken aback at the interruption, then adapts.

“I’m great, thanks to all of you, which is why I’m here.”

I draw level with Buck, not bothering to keep the frown off my face. Behind Taylor, I can see Chim and Hen both listening in too.

“You guys are so amazing, I want to do a story on this fire house and all the heroes who work here,” she smiles.

“Yeah, but you do traffic,” Chim points out, chewing his gum.

“I’m not quite ready to go back in the skies, so I thought I’d try my hand at telling a story from the ground.”

Hen laughs and jumps down from the ambulance.

“And you decided to use your new-found fame to put your face in front of the camera,” she says, smiling without warmth, bang on accurate.

“That too,” Taylor replies, still smiling.

“Smart girl,” Hen says, the smile gone altogether now. Unfazed by the icy atmosphere so far, Taylor looks around at all of us.

“I can’t wait to interview all of you. I wanna know why you chose this job, the crazy things you’ve seen, what it’s like to face death.”

I dart a glance sideways at Buck. He’s looking a little more uncertain now, and I really hope he’s coming down on the same side we all are. If anyone might get accidentally caught up in the glamour and whirl of the cameras, it’s Buck. I don’t trust myself to find the right words to say, to her or him, but I stick close to his side in silent solidarity instead.

“I mean, Howie, you almost died right?” Taylor says, lasering in on Chimney.

“Actually, nobody calls me that, it’s Chimney.”

“Bet there’s a story there,” Taylor pushes.

“Not one you could tell on TV,” Hen shuts her down, and the tension amps up another notch.

“Well, you must have really impressed the Chief,” Bobby says, returning to us. “He said to give you whatever access you wanted.”

“Don’t worry, Captain Nash, your story’s in good hands. I’m gonna make you all famous.”

That’s what I was afraid of.

*

To be honest, speaking to the cameras isn’t as bad as I expected. The questions are fairly straightforward, they don’t try to catch me out, and I figure that, as we can’t stop them from filming, we may as well show the 118 in a good light.

“What made you want to become a firefighter?”

I pause. For a moment, gunfire rings in my head and the nightmares creep a little closer to my waking vision. I push them aside and focus.

“Thing I missed most after leaving the Army was the camaraderie, working shoulder to shoulder with a great team.” My gaze lands on Buck, laughing and joking with Hen as he climbs the stairs to the loft. “There’s none better than the one I found here.”

Later that day, I happen to overhear them filming Buck’s answer to the same question.

“What made you want to become a firefighter?”

“Well, to be honest I just sort of fell into it.”

He’s surprisingly closed off about it, and doesn’t offer anything more. As Taylor Kelly herself would say, there’s a story there. And Buck, usually so open, is keeping it to himself.

**Chim’s POV**

21 hours in to a 24 hour shift, and the selfish bastards I work with couldn’t even save me one brownie. Turns out all the better for me in the end though...

“Allergies are going crazy today!” Eddie yells, swiping the back of his hands over his eyes.

“You too, huh?” Buck says, leaning in close so their shoulders touch. “The index wasn’t elevated this morning, d’you think it’s a new kind?”

“A new kind of what?” Eddie asks.

“Pollen.”

You’ve gotta be kidding me.

“A new kind of pollen?” I ask them.

Eddie’s staring at his hands like he can’t believe they’re attached to his arms.

“You not feeling this, Chim?” he asks.

“No I do not.”

Eddie stares past us, out of the window.

“I can see the pollen,” he says slowly.

“I can hear it,” Buck says incredulously next to him.

What the hell is wrong with them?

**Buck’s POV**

The pollen dances in the air, and I can hear it singing. It coats Eddie’s skin like gold dust, making him even more beautiful than before, if that was possible. I can’t stop staring at him, like he’s a mirage in the desert that might disappear if I take my eyes off of him. The truck cab seems so much louder and full of colour, but none of it is brighter than Eddie. Maybe he is actually some kind of Greek god reborn as a human? It would explain a lot. I gawp at him until the truck pulls up at our call and we step outside, when the rest of the world suddenly explodes at me in a whirlwind of vibrant sounds and colours.

**Eddie’s POV**

Buck is so _tall_. How have I never noticed that before? He’s like this gentle giant, with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re like actual oceans. If I stare at them long enough, I feel like I’m actually drowning, but without the fear and panic of drowning. These oceans? I could swim in them forever. And he’s surrounded by pollen, glittering and golden in the light shining into the truck. This gold and blue mirage of a man cannot possibly be real. How can something that beautiful truly exist?

**Chimney’s POV**

It gets worse at our call, when I go to the aid of a woman with an actual stiletto through her face, and Buck and Eddie are still standing at the door, staring at the tiny, creepy beauty queens.

“Hey! Diaz, Buckley, let’s go!”

I glance back across them. Buck’s now gazing up at the ballroom ceiling, and Eddie’s leaning towards him like he’s afraid of every other person there and Buck’s the only one who can keep him safe.

“Can someone please bring me the rest of my gear?” I yell.

“I think he means you guys.”

Thank God for Athena Grant. But then, two minutes later…

“Chimney! Need you over here.”

I leave the woman with strict instructions to stay still, hold that shoe in place and not make any more phone calls to her plastic surgeon, and hurry back across the ballroom.

“Where the hell is my –?”

“We’ve got a problem here,” Athena tells me. “Your guys be tripping.”

“What?” I call to Hen, Buck and Eddie. “Guys, look at me, you know where you are?

Eddie swims out from behind a cloud of balloons.

“We’re everywhere, man.”

Oh God.

“They’re on drugs!” Athena says, and tries to move some children away as Hen literally falls onto me. I pat her on the back reassuringly, wracking my brain frantically for the cause of this madness. And then the penny drops.

“Oh my God, it’s the brownies.”

“Brownies?”

“We got a new batch today. We got a lot of stuff recently, especially since the earthquake.”

“You guys _eat that_ stuff?” Athena asks incredulously, like she couldn’t believe we could be so dumb. “We just throw that stuff right in the trash!”

“We’re firefighters, everybody loves us!” I tell her with a grin, still patting Hen on the back.

Athena takes matters into her own hands. Her additional backup handcuffs Buck and Eddie to the rear and Hen to the front. They need it to keep them contained, so they don’t hurt themselves or anybody else in a drug-induced daze.

“What’s happening?” Eddie says. “I don’t like this.”

He is literally hysterical, tears threatening.

“Ooh, you made him cry,” Buck says, grinning.

“Alright, everybody just breathe,” Athena says.

**Buck’s POV**

When we eventually get back on the truck, I’m still a little out of it on LSD. I keep catching Eddie’s eye and cracking up, and he’s just as bad. But I also remember how much he freaked out at being cuffed, the fear and panic on his face. He’s usually so calm, I’ve never seen him rattled like that before.

“Are you OK?” I ask him, when the cuffs finally come off and we’re rubbing our wrists to get the circulation back into them. Eddie nods.

“Don’t like being cuffed.”

So I reach out and take his hand. Just like that, like it was the most natural response in the world, for no reason other than I want to make him feel better. And he looks down at my hand holding his, but he doesn’t say anything or pull his hand away. And there’s no one sat in the back of the truck with us – Chimney is with the mom with the shoe embedded in her head – so there’s no one else to see.

“From when you were in the Army?”

He gives a slight nod.

“Being restrained...scares me.”

He looks at me, those deep brown eyes huge with repressed memories of trauma and gunfire. I wonder what things he might have seen while Hen and I were seeing unicorns and pollen and telling people how much we loved them.

“I’ll remember that,” I say, and squeeze his hand in reassurance before I let go. It’s only later, once the trip has worn off, that I realise how that sounds and feel embarrassed about what I did, but I tell myself that maybe it’s like having a hangover and Eddie won’t remember.

**Eddie’s POV**

I remember the warmth of Buck’s hand against mine. How he sat with his body pressed against mine from shoulder to hip. How his presence chased away the darkness, the shadows closing in on me. I never talk about Afghanistan. I locked all my memories away in a box in my mind and threw away the key, but it didn’t help. Every now and then, they creep into my thoughts and nightmares nonetheless.

Buck’s hand on mine, the compassion in his eyes, was like the dawn chasing away the darkness.

We don’t talk about what we saw on acid. We both pretend to forget the things we said and did. But I remember.


	5. You Don't Find It, Son

**Buck’s POV**

“This is Captain Bobby Nash Team 118. Aerial reconn to Abalone Cove and Palos Verdes.”

Eddie and I kit up in our rappelling gear and make our way slowly down the cliff in search of our injured hiker. I go first, with Eddie spotting for me. In turn, I’m checking every every foothold as I go and giving him running commentary on the descent so he knows what to expect.

“Alright, big jump, Eddie, come on.”

We slowly winch our way down under the bright sun, and come to a ledge overlooking the sea.

“Buck, Eddie, you guys see anything down there?” Bobby radios.

“Nah, just a million dollar view,” I reply. I’m looking out to sea, but I’d be lying if I wasn’t also including the view to my right. I mean, Eddie plus a Pacific Ocean view are pretty much anyone’s dream, right? Unless you’re my sister, who seems to have the hots for Chimney. Weird.

Unlike me, Eddie isn’t staring out at the water. He’s peering into a gap between the rocks.

“Cap, found something,” he radios.

“Is it our hiker?” Bobby asks, as Eddie clears scrub from in front of the rock and I jump down to join him.

“Male hiker. Don’t think it’s the one we came looking for. It’s human remains, Cap. Skeletal remains.”

“Alright, flag it, but don’t disturb it, we’ll call it in.”

I’ve been rummaging in the skeleton hiker’s things, and come up with a mobile phone.

“Unless...”

“What, you think a ghost called 9-1-1?” Eddie laughs.

“I’m just sayin’...”

But I don’t get to finish this train of thought, because the sound of a man calling for help reaches our ears.

“OK, so no ghost,” Eddie says, as if this confirms it, and we scramble over the rocks in the direction of the voice. Much further down, closer to the water’s edge, we find a guy in his twenties. He’s still alive. Eddie reassures him as I report back to Bobby.

“Can you tell me your name?” Eddie asks.

“Ian,” he says, his whole face screwed up in pain. He tells us his leg is broken, and his face is sunburnt and covered in blood where he must have hit his head on the fall.

“How d’you find me?” he asked.

“It wasn’t easy,” I tell him. “You weren’t on long enough for them to ping your phone.”

“On with who?”

I glance at Eddie – is this a sign of concussion? Is he delirious from the sun or the pain?

“With 9-1-1,” I say slowly.

“I dropped my phone when I went over,” Ian replies, through teeth gritted against the pain. “I didn’t call 9-1-1.”

I’m telling you, a ghost called 9-1-1.

**Eddie’s POV**

My suit and tie are suffocating me, but Carla insisted I dress up.

“Remember, you’re not the only one checking them out. First impressions count, Eddie.”

And my first impression is that this place is way fancier than any school I’m used to. It’s modern, with sculptures in the yard and lots of concrete and glass. Carla fits in, of course she does, but I feel very out of place. I keep my hands jammed in my pockets as we walk, and Principal Summers reels off the list of facilities.

“Our grounds include two outdoor play areas, state-of-the-art gymnasium, music, theatre, the full range of academic offerings, plus behavioural and cognitive programmes.”

She looks to me for a response and, as per usual, I struggle to find the right words.

“Look, umm, the programmes sound good, but Christopher’s happiness is what’s important to me. I want him to feel normal, not like some special needs charity case.”

She smiles.

“Every child is special. And yes, some do have additional needs, but they are all equally our children. They learn as much from each other as they do from us.”

I wander to the open door of a nearby classroom. It’s an art class, and I know instantly that Chris would love it in here. I try to imagine him coming to this school every day. I can work the overtime for the fees, but I need to know he’ll be happy. I don’t want him to feel like an outsider.

“I think Christopher would be well cared for,” Carla offers me her opinion, quietly but decisively. And I trust her. She’s fitted in seamlessly to our family and our routine, and Christopher adores her already. Bringing her into my life was one of the greatest gifts Buck could ever have given me.

“OK, let’s do it,” I say.

“The only thing left would be the family interview.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, Christopher’s terrific. We have your information, all we need now is to meet _Mrs_ Diaz.”

I’m nodding along with her, even as a leaden weight settles in my stomach.

“That won’t be a problem, will it?” Principal Summers asks brightly, completely unaware of my inner turmoil.

“No it’s definitely a problem,” I say to Carla, as soon as we’re alone.

“Look, I know Christopher’s mother’s a touchy subject with you, but I’m sure if we explain the situation to Principal Summers we can find a workaround. Do you have a copy of the custody agreement?”

My head snaps back to face Carla. Guilt twists in my stomach.

“There isn’t one.” Carla frowns and I look away again. “We’re still married.”

*

Shannon walks around Christopher’s bedroom like she’s an explorer on an alien planet. I watch her from the doorway, painfully aware of all the mornings I spent watching Christopher from this doorway, wishing that she was here. Now she is, I don’t know how to feel about it.

Shannon’s gaze is drawn to a large framed photo of me and Christopher on the steps of the fire house. Buck took it the day Chris hung out with us there. Shannon sits down on the edge of the bed, staring at it. We’ve been out of contact for so long that I’ve never sent her photos of Christopher as he’s grown up. This is the first photo she’ll have seen of him in years.

“He’s gotten so big,” she said softly, and I smile automatically. Then the smile falls away again, replaced by uncertainty.

“Has he asked about me?” Shannon asks, picking at the bedspread nervously and not meeting my eye.  
“Not in a while. But he’s had a lot to keep him busy though: the move, new school, seeing people...”

“Sure, sure,” she interrupts, and I can hear the pain in her voice. “He must have been shocked, when you said you were leaving Texas. I sure was, when you called yesterday.”

“Shannon...”

I can hear the warning note of anger in my voice. How does it always end in a fight with us? And how does it always take so little time to get there?

“So, tell me about this school,” she says, cutting me off again, and I’m grateful that she’s derailed the inevitable, at least for now. Back in the living room, I drop the school prospectus on the coffee table for her to see.

“They want to meet you. Need to meet you, it’s a requirement for admission.”

She nods and examines a leaflet.

“It looks...fancy.”

My thoughts exactly, though I don’t tell her that.

“Not the kind of place I thought you’d be into.”

Seems she does still know me after all.

“Classes are smaller. Ten kids instead of thirty. I mean, the art studio? You should have seen him.”

“Can I? See him? I mean, this is a big step, switching schools when he just got here, maybe I could talk to him, make sure it’s what he wants.”

No.

I shake my head, arms already folded defensively across my chest.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. It might confuse him.”

“What’s confusing?” Shannon smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m his mom.”

“Who he hasn’t seen in almost two years,” I remind her.

And, just like that, we spiral back into the same old habits and same old arguments, that ends with Shannon heading for the door, and the frustration and anger she always manages to stir up in me boils to the surface. How can she always make me feel like I was never enough for her?

“What did you need that I didn’t give you?” I shout.

“You!” she yells, whirling on the spot to face me. “I needed a husband and a co-parent, and instead all I got was a life alone in Texas with a baby and you on another continent.”

My jaw works, but no words come out.

“I needed someone to _have my back_ ,” Shannon almost spits the words out, and they ring a bell in my head but I can’t place them right now.

“I always had your back,” I say, but she shakes her head.

“No. You were in Afghanistan.”

And that’s the end of our conversation.

*

It’s only later that night, lying in bed staring up at the ceiling, that the words come back to me.

“ _You could have my back any day."_

_"_ _Yeah…or, you know, you could have mine.”_

“ _Deal.”_

Buck and I promised to have each other’s backs. Those simple words, said with the solemnity of a vow, forged over a live grenade in a man’s leg. I trust Buck with my life. To protect me and keep me safe. And it’s so simple, so straightforward. Not this tangled mess of scars that makes up my marriage.

*

Halloween arrives, and with it the chance to dress up. Carla gets away with pumpkin deely boppers. I’m not so lucky. Carla also has no idea what I am, which doesn’t help. How has she never seen _Escape From New York_? Next year, I’m dressing up in a white sheet with eye holes in it. This level of dedication to a costume that no one gets is definitely not worth it.

“I’m disappointed that costume didn’t come with a smile,” Carla says. Shame lands on my shoulders, and I flip the eyepatch off my face to answer her, feeling even sillier in my costume than I did before.

“I had a fight with Shannon,” I explain. “I asked her to help with Christopher and his school, she asked to see Christopher first.”

“And you said _no_?” She gives me her honest opinion, no holds barred. “If you want her back in your life you’re gonna have to ease her back into it at some point.”

“Who said I want her back in my life?” I ask defensively, and Carla shoots me a derisive look.“Pl

ease. So you decided to leave Texas, and you just happened to choose a job working thirty minutes from where your ex lives.”

“LAFD are the best in the country, in the world,” I retort.

“If she’s gotten herself back together, you know what’s best for your son. And that’s for his mother to be back in his life, sooner than later.”

I sigh, and voice the fear that holds me back from any kind of reconciliation with Shannon, even attempting it.

“What if she screws up again?”

“Both of you have grown up a lot over the years. And a boy needs his momma.”

*

Shannon’s appointment at Durand School happened to be when I wasn’t at work. So I found myself driving out there, to check in with her and see how it went. To try and make peace.

She looks great, which makes this even harder. The golden-yellow dress she wears glows against her skin, and she smiles graciously at the principal as she leaves. I climb out and intercept her on the way back to her car.

“School called to tell me about your appointment, thought I’d head over.”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t tank the interview, OK?” She pauses. “At least, I don’t think I did.”

“I’m sure you did great. I appreciate it, and Christopher will too.”

“That’s why you’re here? To pass along thank yous to my own son?”

She tries to open her car door, but my hand gets there first and shuts it again. Shannon straightens up, and we face off in the car park. This time, for once, I hold my temper in and manage to find the words.

“When you left, I understood. I tried to. I mean, you were taking care of your mother and I was trying to take care of Christopher, and we...we just drifted further away from each other. I always thought you would come home. Maybe we’d have a chance to make things right. But you didn’t. So I guess I need to know. Why?”

There. I’ve said it. Finally gotten those words out that I spent two years wanting to ask. Shannon looks at me with tears sparkling in her eyes.

“I didn’t know how. The longer I was gone the harder it was to come back. To face you. To face Christopher...” she trails off, and her voice wobbles with tears. “He must hate me.”

“What are you talking about, why would Christopher hate you?”

“Because I did this to him! I have relived every moment of that pregnancy so many times. Just trying to figure out how it happened, and what I did wrong.”

And it dawns on me. She blames Christopher for his CP.

“And I thought I could make up for it so I did all this research, finding new treatments and different therapies, but it was just all so overwhelming and exhausting and I just needed a break. So then the mother who hurt her kid left him...” she trails off into tears, and I take her into my arms.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. What happened...it wasn’t your fault.”

“I know that, I just...I don’t feel it.”

I look down. Where we’ve broken apart from the hug we’re now holding hands.

“Christopher loves you,” I tell her. “And he misses you.”

I lean forward and rest my forehead to hers, my hand coming up to cup the side of her face. She braces a hand on my shoulder, and I tell myself to be brave and honest.

“I miss you,” I whisper.

“And I miss you.”

And then I lean in and kiss her.

*

**Buck’s POV**

“Hope is a tricky thing.”

Maddie’s words echo in my head. I’ve been wondering where the line is for some time now. When is giving up too soon, and when is holding on too long?

I decide I need to talk to someone who isn’t Team Buck. Maddie, Hen, Eddie – they all keep telling me to move on. And it’s so easy to just go along with them and get mad at her. But I need to talk to someone who knows Abby. Carla knows her better than the others – Eddie and Maddie never even met her – and someone who knows her better than I do. Carla insists she doesn’t take sides, but I need to hear her honest, straightforward brand of kindness now.  
“She still cares about you,” she tells me. “She’s just not ready to come home yet.”

I can’t wait forever.

“Everything in this place is hers. She feels less and less a part of it every day. This whole time I thought I was being haunted by her. Maybe I’m the ghost.”  
OK, so perhaps I’m a little obsessed with ghosts after our call the other day. But it fits how I’m feeling so perfectly that I don’t know how else to describe it. And I can’t keep living here, haunted by the memories of a former life. So, that night I sit down at the dining table, one last time, and write Abby a letter:

_We are all haunted. By the ones we’ve loved and the ones we’ve lost. By the choices we’ve made, and the ones we still struggle with. Our lives are like a series of ghost stories. Sometimes all we can is turn the page and let go._

_Being with you made me a better man, and for that I will always love you. But now it’s time for me to figure out who I am without you._

*****

**Eddie’s POV**

I don’t think any of us will forget about Lola and Norman any time soon.

As #BlindNorman trends on social media and the phrase ‘See Me Norman!’ becomes imprinted on my brain, I winch Buck on a rope off the side of the bridge over the freeway, which is at a standstill thanks to Lola. She eyes him suspiciously, and I hear the rush of the mattress as Hen and Chim bring it in beneath us.

What none of us predicted was that Lola would flip out. She pulls a pistol from the pocket of her bathrobe and fires repeatedly at the mattress. It deflates, and then she straightens up and turns the gun on Buck. Vaguely, over the sound of my own blood pounding in my ears, I hear the sound of an army of police guns being cocked and aimed at Lola. Down on the megaphone, Athena steps up the negotiating.

“Lola, listen to me very carefully. You now have every firearm in the Greater Los Angeles area pointed at you. If you continue to threaten that man, they will fire. Do you understand?”

Buck is frozen at the other end of the platform, his palms raised. My knuckles turn white on the rope tethering me to Buck. But I know that I wouldn’t have the time to pull him up before she fired.

“I don’t wanna hurt anybody,” Lola says, and although she doesn’t drop the gun, her arm falls away from Buck. He slowly straightens up from the crouch he was in. “I just can’t handle being ignored anymore.”

There’s a pause. Then I hear Buck’s voice below me, quiet and earnest.

“I know exactly what you mean.”

“Oh come on,” Lola says, and if I wasn’t so nervous for Buck I’d have laughed. She gestures at him with the gun. “Yes, I’m sure you get ignored all the time.”

“You have a Norman. I had an Abby.”

He pauses, then continues. His voice is raw and broken.

“You think that you have something...something special. You know, she’s The One. So you wait. And then at some point, it hits you. You’re alone. She’s not coming back. You’re just there to collect the mail, and it is piling up. And then you realise. It’s over. You just need to face it and move on.”

I’ve never heard Buck speak about Abby like this before. This crew share everything, and I’m still getting used to that, but I’ve never heard him share this. I never knew that he thought Abby was The One.

I used to think Shannon was The One. But years of bitterness and struggle have made me wonder if there’s such a thing as The One at all.

An LAPD motorcycle rides up, and the famous Norman appears. Athena straps him into body armour and pushes the radio into his hands.

“Lola? Lola, honey, it’s me? I’m here, and I see you, just like the sign says.”

“Liar! You look right through me, you don’t even notice me, I’m just around to,” she gestures the gun at Buck again and he jumps back a step, “Collect the mail.”

Looks like she took his talk to heart.

“Lola, honey, now listen to me. I’m here and I see you and I need you to put down the gun.”

And, somehow, Norman manages to talk her round. He plays a song from one of their first dates, and recounts memories from their their life together. It’s hardly intimate when he’s shouting it up via megaphone and being livestreamed on social media, but for the looks they’re giving each other it may as well be just the two of them.

And, finally, Lola relents. Buck eases the gun away from her, switches it to his right hand, and slowly extends his arm up to me, without looking, knowing that I’ll see it. And I do. I reach over and take the gun from his hand. And, as I do, I squeeze his hand. Just a little. To say ‘I’m grateful you’re still alive’, and ‘I’m sorry you’re hurting so much over Abby’, and ‘If she left you, she didn’t deserve you’. And I hope this simple action will convey what I wish I could tell him with all these words left unsaid.

**Buck’s POV**

I feel supremely uncomfortable. Sleeping on Chimney’s couch will do for now, but it just reinforces that I’m back to Square One. I’m nervous. I’ve been out of the dating scene for so long, I feel like an alcoholic who’s had a drink placed in front of them the second they’ve stepped out of rehab.

I don’t want to revert back to being Buck 1.0. Single Buck 2.0 is going to be different. And maybe a night out with Chim will help ease my worries.

But then I hadn’t factored on being the third wheel. Because where Chim goes, it seems Maddie goes too. And before long they’ve ditched me altogether and are singing karaoke. I wish I’d dragged Hen or Eddie along with me. I could really do with some backup here tonight, rather than another reminder of how alone I am. I could really do with someone to have my back so I don’t make any more dumb mistakes.

Maddie and Chim’s singing drives me to the bar, and I’ve only just put down my empty glass when the bartender plants a tumbler of amber liquid in front of me to replace it.

“What is this?”

“Bourbon neat. The lady said real heroes don’t drink beer.”

I follow his gaze down the bar, and it lands on a familiar face. Taylor Kelly.

I have nothing better to do and she looks as good as ever, so I find myself drinking with her, half-watching Maddie and Chimney singing _Islands in the Stream_.

“I see Chimney’s got a girlfriend,” Taylor comments, and the protective younger brother in me bristles.

“No he doesn’t. That’s my sister.”

“Oh, sorry.” She shrugs. “They’re kind of good.”

It turns out her station is just around the corner from this badge and ladder joint, so she likes to hang out her and canvas for stories. When she asks about me, I find myself telling her all about the new resolution to be Buck 2.0.

“I’m just trying to be responsible and well-behaved. Take it slow and do it right.”

She smirks and holds up her glass to mine in a toast, making sure to hold my gaze.

“To restraint.”

**Eddie’s POV**

So, Buck slept with Taylor Kelly. Great.

“Seriously? You’re telling me, Taylor Kelly the reporter?”

Bobby sounds incredulous. I know how much he hated her. How much we all hated her. Everyone except Buck it seems.

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t know you two were seeing each other.”

“We’re not. I ran into her in this bar, we’re hanging out, next thing I know we’re having sex in the bathroom...”

I wish Buck’s voice didn’t carry so much. Even when he’s trying to be subtle I can still pick it up from the ambulance, where I’m unloading the stretcher and wishing I was anywhere else but here.

“I feel weird about it,” I hear him admit now to Bobby.

“Which part?”

“I just thought I’d stopped being that guy. I thought Abby had changed me, I’ve been single for like a day, and I’m right back at it?”

“No Buck, you’ve been single for months,” Bobby says as he walks away. As I trundle the stretcher past Buck, I hear him call out a response to Bobby.

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

I want to say something. But I don’t trust myself, so I bite my tongue and keep my head down, hoping that this is the end of their conversation. But God is not on my side, and it carries on inside the gas station too.

“I like her. And not just because she’s a redhead, but now if I do want to call her and I ask her out, she’s gonna think I’m only after one thing.”

“You _are_ only after one thing, _jerk_ ,” says our patient, the would-be Bonnie in this low budget Bonnie and Clyde set up.

“You don’t even know me,” Buck frowns after her.

“You’re a man, I know enough.”

Athena and Hen have to hide their smiles at that one.

**Buck’s POV**

I’m third wheeling again, but this time it’s because crashing on Chimney’s sofa means that I’m inevitably around for his standing social engagement with my sister.

“Wait, a news van? Don’t other people use that? What if you get caught, she could get fired?”

Great, a lecture from my sister about my sex life. Remind me why I stayed in tonight?

“Your brother sure did,” Chimney smirks. She looks confused, and Chim’s grin widens.

“Oh! He didn’t tell you about the time he stole a fire truck from work so he could go and have sex in it?”

“Urgh,” Maddie pulls a face, and I feel a hot swoop of shame in my stomach.

“Thank you for that,” I tell Chim.

“Any time, _roomie_.”

So that’s the price I pay for crashing on Chimney’s couch rent-free. Though I do also get free takeout, so I’ve gotta take the wins where I can. I’m still trying to get my head around this Friday night dinner that Maddie and Chim have going on when my sister takes the topic back to a place I’d rather forget.

“Let’s go back to you stealing a hook and ladder for a hook- _up_.”

“It’s your fault,” I tell her, trying to divert attention away from me. “You know, you always told me to go after what I wanted.”

“You were eleven. Don’t you have impulse control?”

I try and ignore that by focusing on Taylor’s good points.

“She’s beautiful, she’s cool, and she left me standing in a parking lot.”

OK, that didn’t quite work.  
“Yeah, I feel this is a little bit karmic,” Chim quips. “Chickens coming home to roost.” He grins. “You’ve been Bucked. Buck 2.0 has found himself a Buckette 1.0.”

Having had enough of their teasing, I turn my fire on them. Because I’ve had enough of this oblivious “We’re just friends” BS that they’re trying to pull.

“You guys are dating each other.” I put it out there, and they instantly freeze and throw out the denials.

“That’s crazy, we’re just friends who hang out.”

Smiling triumphantly, I push my point.

“No, you’re always talking oer texting each other, you sing karaoke together, you do Buff Fridays, you finish each other’s sentences...guys, come on, you’re a couple.”

They keep up the denials so I give up for now, but I’m still not convinced. If I had fallen into a friendship that was pretty much dating, I’d like to think I’d see it, and not be so clueless as my sister and Chim are.

*

When we took the call to 2237 Westbrook Avenue, I had no idea that it would be a call that stayed with me for the rest of my life.

Thomas and Mitchell spent the best part of 40 years together. They were old, but still so active and healthy. And now, for Mitchell to die in such a freak accident, taken away so suddenly from the love of his life? The casual cruelty of the universe really gets to me some days.

While Eddie and Bobby release Mitchell from between the car and the gate, lower him onto a backboard and respectfully cover him with a sheet, I sit with Thomas on the steps of the ambulance. He’s telling me about their recent marriage.

“We thought what the hell. We have so little life left, we might as well live. That was Mitchell. Always daring. And me, always following along.”

Thomas sighs, his eyes full of love and grief.

“All those foolish things we did. We only ever wanted to go together. That’s love.”

I feel like my own heart is breaking a little along with his. I wish I could find the words that will make him feel a little better. Condolences seem so cheap and worthless to something so profound, that has lasted so long.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell him instead. “I really am. I guess I can only hope to find something that good.”

He glances at me, eyes still a little far away.

“You don’t find it, son. You make it.”

I’d never thought of it like that. I’d always assumed that love was something you found, or fell into. I never looked on it as something you worked at and built over time, something constructed. A choice you make to build a life with someone.

I’m still thinking about this while I give Thomas a moment alone with Mitchell, and wander over to pick up the photo album on the driveway. Some of the photos have scattered around it, and I sift through the memories of their life. The love they had for each other is obvious in every one. Leaving the album I return to Thomas and touch his shoulder, to check that he’s alright.

“Thomas?”

**Eddie’s POV**

“Uh, Eddie, Cap! Come here!”

I hear the note of panic in Buck’s voice, and grab the medical bag and run up the slope to him.

“I don’t know what happened, he was talking, he was responsive, and then...”  
I drop to my knees by Thomas’s head, checking his pulse, readying the oxygen, as Buck begins compressions.

“Come on Thomas, stay with me.”

Buck does his best, but I see Bobby trying to catch my eye for an assessment, and I know I have to give him a hard answer. I shake my head, and Bobby sighs.

“Buck.”

He puts his hand over Buck’s.

“He’s gone, kid.”

Buck stops reluctantly, and I can see the sadness on his face. He really seemed to connect with this couple and their story, and I can see it’s hit him hard. I lift a hand and rest it on his shoulder in solidarity. It’s always hard to lose a patient, especially one that touches your soul in such a short time. Buck sits back on his heels, his eyes fixed on Thomas and Mitchell’s hands, linked in death as in life.

“That’s love,” he says quietly.

And, when he shows me their photo album, full of happy memories from a long life together, I have to agree. I only wish I could find an everlasting love like theirs.

**Buck’s POV**

It seems silly to admit that I was afraid to meet Ali for a coffee. But I need to find a balance, between Buck 1.0 and Buck 2.0. I have to forge this new path for myself. And I can be a better man. I will be. I can still be a good man without Abby.

She looks great, and the dark hair suits her. It’s nice to see her and catch up. But, before I sit down, I have to ask her something.

“Buck 2.0 has to ask...you didn’t call me because you felt some kind of weird debt, did you, I mean, saving your life and all?”

Ali laughs.

“Wow, is that the way you remember it? Cause I seem to remember Eddie catching me as I was falling out the window.”

“I told him to do that,” I tell her, grinning at the memory.

“Well maybe I should have called him,” she suggests, and I feel a prickle of jealousy at the thought.

“Well I’m glad you didn’t,” I reply, and she leads me to our table.

*

It’s only much later, thinking back on that moment, that I realise what I was really feeling jealous about all along.


	6. You Two Have An Adorable Son

**Buck’s POV**

The Toy Drive is one of my favourite days of the year. I love welcoming people through the doors of the station, which is all decorated ready for the holidays, talking to the kids about what they want for Christmas, and gathering toys to give to kids in need across the city. It takes most of the day, and we make sure that there are always firefighters in the station to cover it. If the day’s not busy with calls, we like to spend most of it here.

Chim and I are handing out mulled wine in red and green cups. I’m the only one getting into the festive spirit, with a Santa hat on. The others, Scrooges, all refused. But it’s a hit with the kids, so it was all worth it. Eddie is standing by one of the toy bins, taking donations, and I can hear him thanking someone when his voice changes.

“Shannon.”

Chim, eternally nosy and unashamed, looks straight round at her. I shoot them a more subtle sideways glance instead. So this is Eddie’s wife.

The woman standing across from Eddie is slim and beautiful, in a dress and a long, mustard yellow cardigan. Wavy brown hair tumbles down her back, and I think, if I squint, I can see some of Christopher in her. But right now her face is pinched and angry, and it’s directed straight at Eddie. She crackles with frustration, and Eddie tenses under her gaze.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie asks, and I can hear the unconvincingly casual tone to his voice.

“You won’t answer my texts or return my calls,” she replies.

Eddie drops his voice to a whisper.

“This is not the place,” he says, and plasters on a fake smile for the public, looking away over her shoulder as he accepts a toy dinosaur.

“Maybe it’s the perfect place. Because we can actually have a conversation that doesn’t end up with us in bed.”

Chimney and I both stop pretending that we’re not listening at that point.

I didn’t know they were sleeping together again. Eddie never told me. But why would he? He doesn’t have to tell me anything. Yet something about this revelation still stings, as Eddie gestures for Shannon to follow him to our locker room and strides away, his face guilty and tense.

**Eddie’s POV**

I’ve never been to a Toy Drive before, but it’s a lot of fun. It’s nice to give something back to the community, to be able to do some good for kids who need it. So I’m feeling pretty good when someone hands me a toy fire truck in a large rectangular box, and smile as I look up at them.

“Thank you...Shannon.”

She stares at me, flinty-eyed.

“What are you doing here?” I opt for casual, as if I didn’t know.

“You won’t answer my texts or return my calls,” she replies.

I can’t have this conversation here and now. Not at work, when I’m still in my probation, when I’ve brought enough personal drama to the fire house already. Not surrounded by members of the public who look up to me as a firefighter. Not when Buck and Chimney are standing just across from me, close enough that I know they can hear every word we say.

“This is not the place,” I say, dropping my voice to almost a whisper, and force a smile for a member of the public dropping off a toy dinosaur.

“Maybe it’s the perfect place,” Shannon says, her voice dripping with anger. “Because we can actually have a conversation that doesn’t end up with us in bed.”

Everything stops. I freeze in place, uncomfortably aware that Buck and Chimney have both stopped handing out mulled wine and are staring at us. Buck’s gaze burns into me.

“Follow me,” I say angrily and urgently to Shannon, and stride away to the locker rooms before she can air any more of our dirty laundry in public. Unfortunately the locker rooms have glass walls, so it’s not quite the privacy I was going for, but at least no one else will be able to hear us in here.

“I can’t do this here, not now,” I tell Shannon urgently, and move to shut the doors so no one else can come in.

“Then where? And when?”

Her gaze follows me, wide-eyed, around the room. “It’s been almost two months, and right now I feel even further away from him, and you, than I ever did when we weren’t speaking. Are you ever gonna let me see Christopher?”

“Of course.”

The answer comes out automatically, but I know it’s not the truthful one, which I follow up with next, unable to meet her eyes.

“Eventually.”

“Does he know that I’m here?” she asks, seeing what I’m not saying in my body language.

“I didn’t want to confuse him. Not until I was sure.”

“Of me? Because you seemed pretty sure when we started having sex again.”

Does she really think so little of me, that I’m just using her for sex? Or that sex is the way she buys back in to Christopher’s life?

“Is that how you see this? Some transaction? What, you sleep with me so I let you see Christopher?”

I stride around her, unable to keep still, the tension still boiling in my blood.

“I thought it was a reconciliation,” Shannon says, anger rising in her voice as her gaze follows my steps. “Right up until the moment you hid me from our son.”

“I didn’t know what else to do!”

My words come out as a shout, and I instantly glance outside to check that no one else heard. I look back at Shannon and carry on.

“I didn’t know what else to do, and I’m not keeping you from our son as some kind of punishment.”

Shannon stares at me in desperation.

“Whatever I need to do to prove myself, and to fix things, _name it_ ,” she hisses. “I am there. But you and me and _hiding it_ from him, that is starting to make everything feel... _more broken_.”

“You keep looking to me like I have the answers,” I say desperately. “I don’t.”

I have never felt more lost than I have in this relationship.

“No,” Shannon retorts quietly. “Just the power.”

Guilt needles through every part of me.

“I’m the one who screwed up,” Shannon says. “The one who left. I know I don’t get to have a say. So I’m following your lead. But...where are we going? When will you be able to forgive me?”

The words that follow fall easily from my lips, but land heavy on my heart.

“I can forgive you. I’m just not sure I can trust you.”

**Buck’s POV**

Chimney and I are navigating a maze of Christmas trees. He dragged me down here to help him choose a tree for Maddie, so I am using the time to air my views on Eddie and Shannon instead.

“Eddie’s sleeping with her, but he’s lying about it. It’s like he’s having an affair with his own wife. You don’t think that’s weird?”

“I think it’s none of our business, now can we please focus on the trees.”

So I try. I really try to remind myself that it’s none of my business, and that Eddie doesn’t need my opinions or my approval.

And then we take Christopher to meet Santa.

*

“I offered to wait in line with him, but he says it’s _private_.”

Eddie has his phone out, ready to capture the best angle of Christopher as he steps up, all by himself, to meet Father Christmas. He waves and calls to him.

“Christopher!”

I smile as we both watch Chris through the phone screen. He glances back and smiles, then looks away, totally confident.

“I really admire that kid,” I say. “I love the way he always wants to do everything on his own.”

“Yeah,” Eddie laughs proudly. Then the smile slips from his face, and his expression instead looks like someone awaiting a sentencing at court.

“So?” he asks, as he pockets his phone. “Not gonna say anything?”

Oh. I didn’t think we were going to get into this territory already. I know what I _want_ to say. But Chim’s right, it’s none of my business. So I play dumb and stall.

“About what?”

“You know what about,” he calls me out.

“I figured it was none of my business.”

“It’s not.”

So why is he asking?

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“It just, kinda happened, OK, it’s not like I planned it.”

“I never said you did.”

“I only reached out to her because I needed her help getting Christopher into his new school.”

I see. Guilty conscience needs a confessional. Well he was raised a Catholic.

“Totally understandable.”

“We just kinda...ended up in bed.”

I force myself to be reasonable, to help him assuage his guilt.

“Well these things happen. It’s not like you’re breaking any commandments, you guys are still married.”

“Yeah.” Eddie pauses. “I’m sneaking around behind my kid’s back with his mother.”

Yeah, that’s messed up. But I focus in on the most important part of that sentence.

“Christopher doesn’t know?”

“I don’t know what he knows. These kids sense things, right? The other day, I made her sneak out so he wouldn’t see her there.”

Sounds to me like he’s not ready to have her back in Christopher’s life.

“Trying to protect your kid. I mean, she ran out on him, right?”

Eddie hesitates, watching Christopher, now sat on Santa’s lap and chatting away happily to him.

“I ran out first.”

He says it like a confession, and I wonder how many other people he’s admitted that to.

“I ran out on both of them.”

I’m not sure what to say to that. I frown, searching for the right words to say. But Eddie fills the silence with an explanation.

“See when Christopher was first diagnosed I was in Afghanistan, right at the end of my tour. Instead of going back home...I re-enlisted. I told myself it was to pay the bills...”

“But you were running away too,” I finish the sentence for him, and he nods.

“Yeah. But I got to pretend like it was for a noble cause, to serve my country.” He pulls a face. “When Shannon broke? Nobody thought she was a hero. She just got called evil.”

“And now she wants back in his life.”

“Yeah.”

“So why don’t you let her?”

Oops. I really meant to listen to this without weighing in, without telling Eddie what to do. And, I’ll be honest, I didn’t warm to Shannon when I saw her. She made Eddie all tense and unhappy, I could see the joy drain from him when she turned up. But Christopher needs his mother. And it’s not up to me to approve of their relationship.

“Seems like she’s already back in yours.”

The words sting a little as I say them, though I’m not sure why. Eddie shakes his head.

“See that’s what’s gotten me confused. Would I be doing it for Christopher? Or for me?” he sighs and rubs his face with his hand. “Sex complicates everything.”

Don’t I know it.

“You said it, brother.”

**Eddie’s POV**

“I offered to wait in line with him, but he says it’s _private_.”

I kinda wish Christopher had wanted me there with him. I have no idea what to get him for Christmas, and it worries me that I’m going to get it wrong. Or that he’s going to ask for the impossible, which I can’t give.

“Christopher!”

I call to him and wave, holding my phone up to catch some photos of him waiting in line. Buck leans in behind me to see the screen, and I can tell he’s smiling too as Christopher glances back at us and beams, then looks back to Santa.

“I really admire that kid,” Buck says, and I can hear the awe in his voice. “I love the way he always wants to do everything on his own.”

Pride swells in my chest.

“Yeah.”

Then the smile fades. Because we’re both sitting here not talking about Shannon, and whatever this situation is that she and I have going on. Buck is never normally shy on giving his opinion. But he’s been awfully quiet on this. Which makes me wonder if he’s judging me, even disappointed in me. Not that it’s any of his business what I do. But somehow, I still find myself wanting his understanding, even if not his approval.  
“So?” I prompt him as I put my phone in my jacket pocket. “Not gonna say anything?”

He plays dumb.

“About what?”

“You know what about.”

“I figured it was none of my business,” he says carefully.

“It’s not.”

I snap the words automatically, emphatically, even though I’m the one who brought this up in the first place.

“That’s what I’m saying,” Buck replies, bemused.

“It just, kinda happened, OK, it’s not like I planned it.”

“I never said you did.”

I don’t owe Buck any apologies. I’m a grown man and my actions are my own business. So why do I feel so guilty telling him this?

“I only reached out to her because I needed her help getting Christopher into his new school.”

“Totally understandable.”

He’s being really reasonable about it, which almost makes me feel worse.

“We just kinda...ended up in bed.”

It’s a struggle to get the words out. I want to laugh at how absurd they sound, like I’m in some kind of terrible rom com. With my car crash marriage, it’s a pretty twisted situation. And I’m not sure there’s a guaranteed happy ending.

“Well these things happen. It’s not like you’re breaking any commandments, you guys are still married.”

“Yeah.”

Am I looking for this validation, for him to tell me it’s OK to go back to sleeping with my wife after we’ve been apart for so long?

“I’m sneaking around behind my kid’s back with his mother.”

Urgh, that makes it sound so sordid.

“Christopher doesn’t know?” Buck asks, and I can’t tell if he’s judging me or not then. _I_ feel bad about it, so I wouldn’t blame him if he thought I was the worst too for lying to my kid.

“I don’t know what he knows. These kids sense things, right? The other day, I made her sneak out so he wouldn’t see her there.”

“Trying to protect your kid. I mean, she ran out on him, right?”

He doesn’t know, so he automatically takes my side. He’s heard my tia’s account of my marriage imploding, and why would he believe any different? I haven’t told anyone at work about my private life beyond what I had to.

“I ran out first.”

The words fall out of my mouth like a confession. I haven’t admitted that to anyone else. My family won’t hear a good word said about Shannon, so I gave up trying. Buck’s the first person I’ve opened up to in a long time.

“I ran out on both of them.”

I can sense Buck’s confusion, the sudden awkwardness as he tries to understand. I can feel him lean away from me, and my leg feels cold without his pressed against it. And now I’ve started talking, I don’t want to stop.

“See when Christopher was first diagnosed I was in Afghanistan, right at the end of my tour. Instead of going back home...I re-enlisted.”

I sigh, keep going.

“I told myself it was to pay the bills...”

“But you were running away too.”

Buck says it without judgement. He’s leaned back in so our knees are touching again, and his voice is soft, sympathetic. Not pitying, not disgusted. Just, here. Present. Listening. Supportive. I can’t remember the last time I had that. Not someone who treated me like some big damn hero. And not someone who judged me as harshly as I judge myself. Just someone who’s there. It’s a good feeling.

I nod.

“Yeah. But I got to pretend like it was for a noble cause, to serve my country. When Shannon broke? Nobody thought she was a hero. She just got called evil.”  
“And now she wants back in his life.”

“Yeah.”

“So why don’t you let her?” Buck pauses, and adds quietly, “Seems like she’s already back in yours.”

I shake my head.

“See that’s what’s gotten me confused. Would I be doing it for Christopher? Or for me?”

My feelings for Shannon are so tangled up with bitterness and anger. The words ‘It’s complicated’ have never been so appropriate.

I sigh and rub a hand across my face. “Sex complicates everything.”

It feels good to have someone I can talk to about this.

“You said it, brother,” Buck mutters.

*

_**What the Christmas Elf Saw** _

We get a lot of couples through here this time of year. Every type of family stops by the fountain and drops off their child into our care to meet Santa. And if you spend every day here like I do, you pick up on their dynamics.

So many of the parents can’t stand each other. They fight in whispers, stand or sit as far apart as possible, before putting on a fake show of unity when their son or daughter comes back to them. You wonder why they stay together, because it’s certainly not for the happiness of their children. I try and pay a little extra attention to the ones who come from warring families, to give them a good Christmas memory amongst the not-so-happy ones.

These two aren’t like that.

They stand out, not least because they’re both unbelievably attractive. One is dark, Hispanic, with wavy brown hair and a chiselled jaw. The other is taller, and looks like a human incarnation of a golden retriever. Christopher takes after him, with his blonde curls and open smile.

But it’s the way they are together that really draws me in. There’s an easy intimacy there that I just don’t see with a lot of couples. They’re smiling constantly at each other, laughing and leaning in close, shoulders brushing. The conversation flows naturally, like they’re best friends as well as just partners.

Christopher undoubtedly has a tough life with his CP, but you wouldn’t know it, because he doesn’t let anything get him down. He insists on walking up to meet Santa by himself, without his crutches, like all the other kids. He does everything with a beaming smile, and he is polite and cheerful when he talks to Santa. I glance back at his dads, sat side by side on the edge of the fountain. They’re taking a photo of Christopher but I wish I could take one of them. What a lovely family.

As I return Christopher to them, I find myself overwhelmed by the desire to say something to them, to let them know in a small way the impact their visit has had on me. The darker man swings Christopher up into his arms and walks away with him, attention solely focused on his son. The taller man is watching them both with a soft smile, and lingers a little to watch them walk away. So I take my chance.

“You two have an adorable son,” I tell him.

My words catch him by surprise and he looks faintly embarrassed. For a second I worry that I’ve jumped to conclusions, that they’re not actually together or that Christopher’s not actually their son.

But then he fixes those bright blue eyes back on me, smiles shyly and says, “Thank you.” And he hurries after his family.

**Buck’s POV**

I gesture to Christopher, on his way back to us, and thankfully far enough away not to hear us discussing his dad’s sex life. I rise to my feet, Eddie doing the same beside me. His face relaxes into that smile he always wears just for Christopher.

“How’d it go, pal?” he asks.

“It went great,” Christopher beams.

“So what d’you ask for?”

“I can’t tell, Santa said not to.”

Nice try, Eddie.

“Let’s go.”

Eddie lifts Christopher up into his arms and carries him back towards the car. As I linger a few seconds to watch them go, smiling, the elf approaches me.

“You two have an adorable son.”

Oh.

She thinks Eddie and I are together, and that Christopher is our son.

My first reaction is an embarrassed smile, as my face heats up and I try to work out how to tell her that we’re not actually a couple. But the words die in my throat.

I’ve been searching for that sense of belonging my whole life. Apart from Maddie, my own family didn’t exactly project love and belonging. Maybe that’s why I’m not comfortable with this new arrangement Eddie and Shannon have going on. It doesn’t seem right. They don’t need the uncertainty that Shannon brings, they need stability. I always imagined that when I had a family of my own we’d be tight, a unit, like Christopher and Eddie. The bond I see between them makes my heart ache.

And just like that, a stranger has given that to me. It’s like she looked inside my heart and gave me the one thing I’ve always wanted. She’s given me the gift of a family. It’s not conventional, but conventional is overrated. And, just for a while, I want to pretend that it’s real.

So I smile at her again and simply say, “Thank you.” Then I hurry away to catch up with Eddie and Chris...my family.

**Eddie’s POV**

“Excuse me!”

One of the bus passengers flags us down.

“That Marine who was helping you. He needs to be at his little girl’s concert – she’s singing across town, he travelled more than 30 hours to be here! Can you do anything to help him get there in time?”

Heart strings successfully tugged, Buck and I turn to look at Bobby in unison. He smiles and nods.

“Get him over here.”

I stride across to my military brother-in-arms.

“I hear you have a show to get to, Marine.”

A disbelieving smile crosses his face, and he hurries after me onto the truck.

“I’m gonna cry. I know I’m gonna cry, those solider reunion videos on YouTube always get me.” Buck says excitedly, and we fistbump triumphantly across the truck as the Marine changes, grinning. I feel so proud that we can give something back, and I’m excited to see this family reunion. Shannon and I never really had one of those YouTube-worthy reunions when I was the one coming back from deployment, so it would be nice to share in someone else’s joy.

As we pull in outside the concert hall, I make sure to jump out first, holding the door open for the Marine. He jumps down and sprints inside. Buck jumps down after him, and claps a hand to my shoulder with the biggest smile on his face. Before I know it, the three of us are all rushing up the steps after him.

And it’s everything I could have imagined. The joy in the eyes of his wife and daughter as our Marine strides down the aisle to sweep them into his arms. I cannot untangle them from the image in my mind of Shannon and Christopher. The Christmases I wished I could have had with them. The time I’m denying her with our son.

“Yep, every time,” Buck whispers, wiping his eyes. And, watching them with tears in my eyes, I know what I have to do.

*

I knew it would be an early start – Chris insists on setting his alarm for 06:0 on Christmas Day, so Shannon had to be here early. Especially to help set up the tree outside. But she was there in a heartbeat, buzzing with nervous excitement.

We left arrows across the floor leading Christopher to the front door, and I hide out of side and watch from the doorway as Shannon jumps out from behind the tree to surprise him. She is overjoyed to see him, and Christopher is beside himself with excitement.

I feel tears choking my throat and my vision blurs as I blink them away, and step out onto the lawn to join them. I’ve opened the door to my heart and my home again, and as I wrap my arms around my wife and son, I fight the fear that being so vulnerable brings me. And all I can think is:

Please don’t hurt me again.

Please don’t leave me again.


	7. No, That Was a Miracle

**Buck’s POV**

“Oh my God.”

I’d approached the shadowy figure in the darkness warily, thinking it might be a homeless guy wandered into the apartment complex and passed out. Then I hear the rattling gasps, and enough light falls on the guy slumped on the ground for me to see who it is.

“Chim!”

I drop to my knees beside him and begin checking him for injuries. He’s been stabbed multiple times, and a slick of blood soon coats my hands as I examine him, then extract my phone and call 9-1-1. I have never been more grateful for my training than I am now, prompting me to say the right words, to do the right things, and to keep Chimney stable until the paramedics can get here.

“I have an adult male with multiple stab wounds to his torso. Need medical and police response.”

“OK sir, can I get your name?”

“Evan Buckley. I’m a firefighter with the 118.”

“Buck?”

He knows who I am. Later I will realise that it was Maddie’s friend Josh, but right now it’s dawning on me what Chim being here might mean for my sister. Panic closes in, and as paramedics arrive and tell me they can take over, I leave Chim in their care and practically sprint into the apartment, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

“Oh no.”

I’m still on the phone to dispatch, and Josh prompts me at the other end of the line.

“What is it Buck? Did you find something?”

Her phone. Her keys. All her things are still here. But Maddie isn’t. I tell Josh and hear him broadcasting urgently over the dispatch airwaves.

“All units responding to 1832 Bryson, be advised we also have a critical missing adult female. Maddie Buckley-Kendall.”

My blood runs cold as I realise what this means.

Doug found her.

**Eddie’s POV**

No matter how many hours you spend in a hospital waiting room, it never gets easier.

Hen’s the only member of our crew here when I arrive, and I head straight for her.

“Got here as fast as I could. How’s he doing?”

“Alive,” she says, her distraught expression belying her calm tone. “But he’s got a punctured lung and a lacerated stomach.”

“Is he in surgery?”

“Not yet, he lost a lot of blood. But as soon as he’s stable they’ll prep him for surgery.”

Not even stable enough for surgery yet. It doesn’t sound good.

“Who would do something like this?”

Hen shakes her head, and I can see the worry written all over her face, even as she keeps it calm and together on the surface.

“Buck found him. And Maddie’s missing.”

A chill runs through me.

“Where’s Buck now?”

**Buck’s POV**

“It was Doug. Doug Kendall. He told Maddie he would kill her if she left him. He did this.”

I don’t get why the cops aren’t taking this seriously. I know Doug did this, why would I lie to them about something like this? Athena backs me up, telling them that Maddie filing for divorce could have tipped Doug off on where she was living. The cops get hung up on this name Chim gave them, Jason Bailey. And yeah, I know that Chim had a new friend he was playing pool with, but who’s to say it wasn’t Doug? Chim doesn’t know what he looks like, only me and Maddie do.

I feel a twist of guilt in my stomach that I wasn’t in tonight when Maddie needed me. I could have prevented this.

The cops are talking subpoenas to get Chim’s phone records and try to track Jason. The only way they can unlock it is with his thumbprint. Despair winds through me listening to them. It could be hours, even days, before they get access to Chimney’s phone. Every minute that goes by, Maddie is more at risk. I have to do something.

And, just like that, a plan forms in my head.

*

“Sorry about this buddy.”

Chim would understand, I know he would. It takes a minute for his thumb to take, time that I don’t have. As I’m leaning over him a nurse comes in.

“Hey, you’re not supposed to be in here.”

So I rely on my best acting, practically draping myself over Chim as I do to hide the phone from view.

“Oh god, please don’t let him die.”

She persists, but I’ve got what I need and step aside. With a triumphant grin, I swipe through Chimney’s phone to check the call and text records.

“You know Detective Marx didn’t believe me. He said no one could be that stupid.”  
With a sinking feeling, I turn to see Athena flanked by two other officers. She gives me that stare I’m starting to know so well.

“I said you don’t know Buck.”

I didn’t say it was a good plan.

**Eddie’s POV**

Hen was torn between being impressed and exasperated when she told me what Buck did. I track him down to a corridor, where a cop stands guard to make sure he doesn’t take off. They haven’t cuffed him at least, so he keeps his hands jammed in his pockets, right knee jumping up and down with agitation. Registering the wild panic and frustration on his face, I realise I haven’t seen him like this before. Buck is usually so full of energy and confidence and positivity. This is the first time I’ve seen him look broken.

The cop eyes me but doesn’t stop me as I cross the corridor to Buck’s side.

“So, that was a bold move.”

I sit down on his left hand side, blocking him from the scrutiny of the cop’s gaze.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he says, and I’m relieved to see the ghost of a smile on his face. Then he grimaces and adds, “ _‘What were you thinking, Buck?’_ I already got an earful from Athena.”

Oh, I see. He thinks I’m here to lecture him.

“Oh no, I know what you were thinking, I’ve got sisters too,” I tell him.

The brother in me knows exactly why Buck did what he did. If it had been me in his shoes, and Sophia or Adriana were in danger? I might have done something stupid too.

“Still not sure how you thought you were going to get away with it though,” I add, the closest to a reprimand he’ll get from me. I’m not judging. I’m just concerned.

“I wasn’t worried about that,” he says, with another ghost of a smile that makes me smile too. Typical Buck. Brave, reckless, and loyal to a fault.

He’s still jigging his knee anxiously up and down, and suddenly his hands come out of his pockets and he leans sideways towards me, catching me by surprise.

“The police have all these rules, you know, rules that are going to get Maddie killed,” he whispers fiercely. “But I’m a civilian, those rules, they don’t apply to me, right?”

“Then why are you in hospital jail?” I remind him, gently but firmly.

Buck has no response to that. For a moment, we sit in silence. I don’t really know why I’m here. But I had to see him. I knew he’d be hurting, and with that move he obviously wasn’t thinking straight. Then Buck carries on, like he’s at a confessional. Maybe he is.

Buck was there for me when I needed to talk about Shannon, to justify to him and to myself why I was letting her back in my life, but sneaking around with her behind Christopher’s back. Now Buck needs to talk out his guilt about Maddie. And I owe it to him to listen, to be there for him while he does it.

“I told Maddie, I said that she didn’t need to keep on running, that she could start over here, that she would be _safe_.” His voice catches, and he looks away. “That I would keep her safe.”

And when he looks back at me, I can see he’s on the verge of tears. For a second, I see a lost little boy who’s scared for his sister, who thinks that he failed her. And he’s looking to me to tell him that he hasn’t. I hold his gaze, searching for the right words to say. But, as always, the words fail me, and I look away.

I’ve never been good at expressing my thoughts and emotions – one of Shannon’s chief complaints – and now, more than ever, I wish that I was. Right now, when everything has spun out of control, I know that Buck needs reassurance. He needs someone to tell him that it’s all going to be OK. But I don’t know if I can do that.

I believe Buck, one hundred percent. Whatever the cops say, I know Doug took Maddie, and that he attacked Chim. Buck’s blaming himself for Doug’s actions, for Maddie being in danger now. I know that Buck couldn’t have stopped this, unless he’d come home just that bit earlier. And what if he had? Doug might have stabbed him too. He and Chim could both have died, bled out right there in front of Maddie’s apartment. That thought chills me to the core.

Buck slumps back against the wall.

“This isn’t your fault,” I say quietly, staring straight ahead. It’s the one thing I know with certainty.

He doesn’t answer me, and as I glance sideways I see he’s leaning forward now, over his knees, grimacing like he doesn’t believe me. I try a different angle, stumbling over each word, but determined to say something that might shift the burden of guilt from Buck’s shoulders.

“What if she had kept running? You think he wouldn’t have found her? Only then she’d be alone.”

“She’s alone now...with him.”

I nod slowly, not knowing what else I can say. I want to say that she might be alone with Doug, but she’s not _alone_ alone. With Buck here to raise the alarm, to rally the cops, and with Athena, I think Maddie’s got the best chance she can of being found. But I’m not sure how to put this into words, and before I can try we’re interrupted.

“I spoke with Detective Marx, he’s not happy with you.”

Athena’s back, bringing all the dark energy of the goddess she’s named after.

“I, I, I...” Buck stammers, something I’ve noticed he does when he’s either excited or nervous.

“You broke chain of custody. You unlocked Chimney’s phone without his permission. Marx can’t use any of it.”

I reckon Chimney would have given his permission had he been conscious. He’d have let them chop off his thumb and take it with them if it meant bringing Maddie home.

“I’m sorry, OK? I was trying to help.”

Repentant Buck vies with Angry Buck. I can hear the struggle in his voice, and prepare myself to cut him off if he starts to say something stupid. He’s in enough trouble as it is.

“OK,” Athena says, her face giving nothing away. “Let’s go. The car’s out front.”

Resignation settles on Buck’s face instead. I sit very still, fingers linked together so I won’t do anything dumb like putting a hand on his knee or shoulder.

“You’re arresting me.”

“Not yet, but the night’s still young.”

She starts for the door. I frown up at Bobby, confused, and see Buck look to me for clarity. As I turn to look at him, he looks to Bobby too, neither of us any the wiser. Bobby gestures after Athena, who’s already through the door the cop holds open for her. Buck lurches to his feet and jogs after her.

“Uh, where are we going?”

“To find your sister.”

Bobby heads after them, and the doors swing shut, cutting off the rest of their conversation. Relief settles over me. Buck will do better out there, doing something practical. I didn’t like their chances of keeping him confined to a hospital corridor all night with Maddie still missing. I rise slowly to my feet and stretch, fighting the urge to follow. A not-so-small part of me wishes I was going with them. But I can be useful here, and support Hen instead. Her best friend is lying in a hospital bed fighting for his life, not even stable enough to go into surgery. At least mine is alive and searching for his sister.

**Buck’s POV**

Of all the people I expected to see, Eddie wasn’t one of them. I didn’t realise he was at the hospital – I avoided the waiting room when I got here so no one would see me and try to stop me getting to Chimney. I lift my head from the wall as he crosses the corridor to me.

“So, that was a bold move.”

Eddie sits down beside me, blocking me from the disapproving gaze of the cop assigned to watch me. It feels good to have his solid, warm presence next to me. Somehow he also manages to do what I thought was impossible, and make me smile.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” I grimace, waiting for the lecture, gesturing towards Athena, who’s talking to Bobby nearby in a voice too low for me to catch. “ _‘What were you thinking, Buck?’_ I already got an earful from Athena.”

“Oh no, I know what you were thinking, I’ve got sisters too.” He pauses while I let this sink in. “Still not sure how you thought you were going to get away with it though,” he adds, and I realise that’s it. That’s the closest Eddie will get to telling me off. His lack of judgement, his gentle teasing, sends relief washing through me.

“I wasn’t worried about that,” I mutter, with a half-grin, half-grimace that makes him smile. But then fear washes away the relief, and I sit up.

“The police have all these rules, you know, rules that are going to get Maddie killed,” I whisper urgently to him. “But I’m a civilian, those rules, they don’t apply to me, right?”

“Then why are you in hospital jail?” Eddie asks, bringing me up short. I have no answer for that. But I need to talk. I need to say something, to get the words out that are clogging up my chest. And they spill out without warning, to Eddie, who sits and listens patiently, without judgement.

“I told Maddie, I said that she didn’t need to keep on running, that she could start over here, that she would be _safe_.” I hear the catch in my voice and look away so he doesn’t see the tears threatening. Guilt weighs heavy on my shoulders. “That I would keep her safe.”

Eddie’s quiet, looking away. He blames me too. I slump against the wall and try not to wonder if Maddie’s still alive or not. I have to believe that she is.

“This isn’t your fault,” Eddie says quietly, staring straight ahead, bringing me out of my thoughts. It’s kind of him to say, but he’s wrong. If I’d have been there tonight, maybe I could have stopped Doug from taking her. If I’d not have pushed so hard for her to stay here in LA with me, she would be somewhere else and safe. I was selfish, because I was tired of the people I love leaving me. And now Maddie had to pay the price for that. And Chim, who’s lying in a hospital bed awaiting surgery, again, because I introduced him to my sister. Because I put him in Doug’s path.

“What if she had kept running?” Eddie asks. “You think he wouldn’t have found her? Only then she’d be alone.”

But she is alone. And it’s all my fault.

“She’s alone now...with him.”

Eddie pauses, and I can see him looking for the right words to say when we’re interrupted.

“I spoke with Detective Marx, he’s not happy with you.”

Athena’s back, and with her all my words disappear.

“I, I, I...”

The stammer is back. Sometimes, when I’m nervous or excited, I trip over my words, can’t get them out fast enough or in the right order, and the stammer jumps in. This is clearly one of those times.

Athena continues with Round Two of her lecture.

“You broke chain of custody. You unlocked Chimney’s phone without his permission. Marx can’t use any of it.”

How was I supposed to know any of this? I’m not a police officer, I’m just trying to find my sister.

“I’m sorry, OK? I was trying to help.”

Athena sighs.

“OK, let’s go. The car’s out front.”

They are arresting me. They’re just letting Athena do it instead.

“You’re arresting me,” I say quietly.

“Not yet, but the night’s still young.”

She starts for the door. Is that it? Where are we going, if not to jail? I look to Eddie beside me, and find him frowning at Bobby. I look to Bobby too and he gestures after Athena, indicating for me to follow her. Fine, I’ll play. I stumble to my feet and jog after her.

“Uh, where are we going?”

“To find your sister.”

**Eddie’s POV**

I don’t know how many hours pass in that waiting room. Michael and Harry bring us coffees and pastries. Shannon brings Christopher and pizzas. Chris is, in fact, the first person Chimney sees when he wakes up, having given me the slip and snuck in there to sit with him.

Finally, at some point late that afternoon, I get a text from Buck.

‘ _We found Maddie. She’s alive. She didn’t give up.’_

Relief washes through me along with a huge smile, and before I reply I go straight to Chimney’s room, where he’s sitting with Hen. They both look up as I step through the door.

“I just got a text from Buck. Maddie’s alive. They’ve found her. She’s gonna be OK.”

Hen sags with relief.

“Thank God.”

She turns to smile at Chim and squeezes his hand, as I move forward to clap her shoulder and Chimney’s. Neither of us mention the tears sliding down his face.

*

**Eddie’s POV**

So, turns out Bobby’s very keen on fire safety talks. I’m not sure Harry’s class from Meadowbrook School knew what they were getting themselves into when they rocked up here today, but it probably wasn’t quite so apocalyptic.

“Panic can be more dangerous than flames, toxic fumes or a sucking chest wound,” Bobby warns them, and gestures to me and Buck to bring the TV forward.

“Cap’s a little intense, huh?” I say casually, catching Buck’s eye. He holds back a grin with difficulty.

“Oh, he takes these talks very seriously.”

Ironically, for all of Bobby’s talk about the CAD machine and how useful it is, that same day it deserts us. We have a Level 3 power outage that knocks out CAD, and all our computers, leaving dispatch to send us to calls the old-fashioned way.

As Bobby briefs us on the fact that we are now in Tactical Emergency Mode, and will be driving around the city all day on mobile patrols rather than waiting at the station for a call, Hen pulls a face at him.

“Cap, you do realise we work here, right? We’re trained professionals, not fifth graders.”

Buck snorts as he climbs onto the truck, but tries to hide it from Bobby.

“Department’s held together by chewing gum and spit,” Hen grouses, as we roll out into the carnage the power cut has left behind.

“Hey, I like these old trucks!” Buck protests. What a romantic. I shake my head.

“I like them when they run,” I say pragmatically.

Dispatch is having fun trying to locate our calls, which means we’re using Google Maps and the ancient street atlas that lives in the truck to navigate around the city. It means that we’re very late to the call to 550 San Vincente, where Sonya is in labour in the lobby of her residential high rise. At 38 years old, Sonya counts as a geriatric pregnancy, a term we all hate. As Hen coaxes her through giving birth, she brings a baby boy into the world. Then her eyes slide close, and her blood pressure drops off a cliff.

Buck takes the baby from us and tries to distract the father, while Hen and I try to rouse Sonya. She goes into cardiac arrest, and Bobby and Hen rush her into the ambulance and head for LA General. Rather than wait for a second ambulance for the baby, Buck and I bring him and the father with us on the truck. Buck and I share a worried look while the father isn’t looking, but keep our thoughts to ourselves. As we jump out at the other end, it’s in time to hear the doctor telling Bobby and Hen to call it. Hen looks devastated. The father is stunned, and walks woodenly to his wife’s side, where he places the baby on her chest and talks softly to her. We’re all choking back tears as the baby reaches out to touch his mother’s face. The mother he will grow up not knowing.

Then we hear a beep from the heart rate monitor, and the dad starts back in surprise. Confused, hardly daring to hope, I go to listen with the stethoscope. And am floored by what I hear.

“She’s got a pulse,” I report back.

“Go, go! Get her inside,” the doctor orders, and hospital staff rush for the gurney and wheel it away.

The dad starts to follow, then stops and turns to face us, still carrying his baby son in his arms.

“Thank you,” he says, and disappears after his wife.

Behind me, Hen bursts into tears, and drops onto the step of the ambulance. Bobby and Buck brace their hands against her shoulders, supporting her. And I gawp after the new family. We just saw a woman come back to life. She died. She was dead on that gurney, unresponsive for fifteen minutes, and now she’s alive, with a pulse. What have we just witnessed?

“That was amazing,” I murmur, almost to myself.

“No, that was a miracle,” Buck says, his voice choked up beside me. When I turn to look at him, he gives me one of his most dazzling smiles, blue eyes sparkling with unshed tears. He turns back to Hen and I follow, drawing in close beside Buck and resting my hand across his back and over his shoulders, needing the reassurance of his warmth and presence beside me.

**Buck’s POV**

My phone rings. Chim, no doubt bored out of his mind on sick leave. But his tone is urgent, and he tells me that we need to get over to Doheny Park urgently. Multiple explosions, and no emergency services on scene. He’s watching it unfold live on the news.

When we get there, we drive through a haze of fire and smoke into chaos. A hydrant’s gone off, and water is spewing all over the road, none of which we can use. And, after Eddie’s checked it, we learn that the hydrant’s completely empty, and the only water we have is in our truck.

We’re going to need a lot of luck with this one. Especially as a frantic father and daughter flag us down, and point to a house at the end of the street, where a frightened boy is trapped inside.

**Eddie’s POV**

Buck goes up the ladder, which reaches out to its fullest extension. He calls to Alex through the window, and reaches out his hand for him. For a moment, it looks like he’s going to be able to reach him.

Then, with a creak and a groan, the ladder breaks, and Buck somersaults head over heels towards the ground. My heart leaps into my mouth, but I can’t move. My body remains rooted to the spot, as Bobby calls Buck’s name aloud and I scream it in my head.

Luckily, Buck is strong and has fast reflexes. He grabs the ladder and holds on, dangling until he can drop to the ground. As Bobby moves in for him, I head for the side of the house. While Buck moved in on the ladder, I was assessing other access routes. There’s only one other way in.

**Buck’s POV**

Back on the ground, Bobby claps my shoulder to check I’m good. Luckily all those hours in the gym paid off with good upper body strength – a slight jolt in the shoulders but nothing to write home about.

As we back off to consider our next move, I see someone else has already moved on to Phase 2.

“Oh, hey, Eddie, Eddie, what are you doing?”

Eddie is climbing up the drain pipe at the side of the house. It’s like watching Spider-Man. He reaches the gutter, and uses it to scale the edge of the roof, up to the top like we’ve been taught, where it will be most structurally sound. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t impressed, watching with my jaw hanging slightly open in awe.

“I feel like if I ever did that you would yell at me,” I say ruefully to Bobby. He looks at me like he can’t believe I’d make such an accusation,

Eddie fastens his rope to the chimney, knocks his visor down and swings into the room. We watch and listen, and a few moments later Eddie’s voice radios

“Cap I got him. Alive but unconscious. Prepare for evac.”

Then another explosion rocks the house. When Eddie’s voice sounds again, his voice is scratchier, feeling the effects of the smoke. My heart is in my mouth.

“Cap, negative on evac, pinned down south side of the house.”  
I can’t just stand out here when he’s in danger inside. I have to go to him. I turn and run for the back of the truck and the ladder.

“I’m gonna take an extinguisher. I can make that jump, I can help Eddie.”

“No, wait!” Bobby calls. And in the distance I hear an engine approaching.

“Hunker down, 217 is inbound.”

“Seriously?” I hear Eddie’s voice on the radio. And that’s one of the last things I hear before the roar of the plane covers everything else.

We all scramble for cover, and the 217 releases its cargo. A planeload of water, right across the neighbourhood. When the roar of the water subsides, we crawl back out from under the truck to find the fires have all gone out. But there’s no sign of Eddie and Alex.

“Eddie, do you copy?” Bobby calls, as we head for the house. My heart hammers in my chest as I prepare to charge in there and search for them.

And then, among the smoke and the timber, a silhouette appears. Eddie, carrying Alex. He brings him out to a waiting stretcher, and we all rush to his side. As Alex’s dad and sister hover over him with Hen, Eddie stands up, gasping in clean air. I thump a hand to his shoulder and squeeze as best I can through my glove and his turnout gear, because it’s all I can do not to throw my arms around him, and laugh with relief.

“’Sup with the Spider-Man routine?”

“I don’t know, I just did it,” he gasps, “And prayed a lot!”

Well, it looks like someone was listening,” Bobby says, clapping a hand to Eddie’s shoulder too.

Let's just say, what with Maddie and Doug, and Sonya and her baby and now this...I'm starting to believe in miracles.


	8. Leaving Again

**Eddie’s POV**

“I swear that kid was born happy.”

Christopher is having the best time on the beach. His grin stretches from ear to ear as he scoops sand into a bucket, basking in the warmth of the sun.

“I have no idea where he gets it,” Shannon says, shaking her head.

“Me.”

She laughs and turns to look at me.

“You. Oh, really? Mr Broody?”

OK, so I don’t have the best reputation for light-hearted. But I’m feeling pretty good today, good enough for jokes, so I carry on.

“Well hopefully he gets your brains. He can’t get by on just my good looks.”

Unfortunately the buoyant mood is soon burst when Shannon steers us into more serious waters. She wants to know what I want. Boy, I wish I knew. I try to explain that the last few months have been good, that we seem to be getting on well and that I don’t want to wreck that. But I can no longer tell what I want and what’s best for Christopher.

“I guess I’m waiting for a sign,” I say, sounding a little too like my abuela for my own liking. But it’s true. The universe might have a better idea about this than I do.

And then it delivers me a big fat sign right there.

“I think I might be pregnant,” Shannon says. And I’m glad I’m already lying down on the sand, because my legs couldn’t have held me up right then.

Looks like Fate has chosen for me. I tamp down the pang of regret that this realisation brings.

*

**Buck’s POV**

Interim Captain Han is a _monster_.

I try to tell Bobby this in my emergency visit to his apartment, where I pretty much beg him to come back off suspension. Yeah, I know it’s not his call, but I’m desperate.

Take the other day. Chimney insisted on us turning out for parade at the start of shift, something Bobby has never made us do. He swanned up and down the line in his aviators, chewing gum and swaggering like he’d been made Chief, not just Interim Captain.

“So we’re doing line ups now?” I ask him, in a tone that says _‘Really?’_

“Stow it, Buckley,” is his response, and I roll my eyes at Eddie. Chimney chomps his gum emphatically, then launches off into a speech.

“Listen up. Because the word of the day is ‘hose maintenance.’”  
“OK, I’m out,” Hen shakes her head and walks off. Eddie and I smirk at each other. We both know Chimney won’t have the balls to discipline his best friend, and he proves us right when he pauses, looks after Hen like he’s considering calling her back, then carries on with his speech like nothing happened.

Later that day, dutifully doing ‘hose maintenance’, Eddie and I are rolling up a hose we’ve cleaned and checked for damage, when we’re interrupted.

“That’s not the most efficient way to do it, guys.”

We sigh, straighten up, and fold our arms in unison, leaning back against the side of the truck as Chim gets down on the ground to show us how it’s done.

“Get it nice and tight, it’s a clean line. Watching, Buckley?”

“Yup.”

“Was it Nero who fiddled while Rome burned?” Hen asks in a low whisper.

“Pass,” Eddie shrugs, looking mystified.

“I wasn’t asking you,” Hen says, patting his arm condescendingly and looking past him at me. “There’s only one of you likely to know the answer to that question.”

I don’t know when I picked up a reputation for knowing useless trivia. But I do actually know a little bit about the Roman Empire, and watching Chimney turn the 118 into his own little empire, I’m seeing a few similarities.

“Actually, they say that was all propaganda...but yeah, Nero.”

“Think he’s been reincarnated?” Hen asks, and I snort with laughter, then duck my head when Chim looks round at us.

And then he told off Eddie that evening at dinner. Chim managed to burn the beef he was cooking to a crisp, so we decide to order in pizza. Hen, Eddie and I fall on the box at our end of the table, and Eddie scoops up two slices and heads for the stairs again.

“Hey, where are you going?” Chimney challenges him. “The 118 eats dinner as a family, even if it is crappy pizza.”

Eddie freezes and turns back to us, embarrassed.

“Sorry Cap. Won’t happen again.”

He slides into the seat between me and Hen, but I can see his mind is somewhere else.

With everything that happens in the days that follow, I never get round to asking him about it.

*

**Eddie’s POV**

I went to see Bobby. He’s kinda like a father to all of us, and it certainly beats calling my own pops for advice. I tell him about Shannon’s confession on the beach, and open up about my concerns.

“Another baby? I mean, are we ready for that?”

“Were you ready the first time?” Bobby asks.

“No. I knew I loved her, but I didn’t think I was ready to get married.”

I’ve never felt ready to do anything in my life when it comes to Shannon and Christopher. In every case, I’ve passed the point of no return and just had to muddle through and hope it’ll work out.

“If you two do decide to have another baby, you’ll figure it out,” Bobby says reassuringly. “We already know you’re a great dad.”

Perhaps the father thing isn’t what’s really bothering me.

“I guess the question is, can I be a good husband?”

“That is the question. Are you ready to ask it?”

Shannon has always confused me. Our relationship has always been such a car crash that I find it hard to separate the good from the bad. But we’ve been happy before, right? We can do it again. Maybe this baby will be the glue that binds us back together. Or a prison sentence that binds us together for another 18 years without parole.

*

This is possibly the best smelling call I’ve ever been to, but it may also put me off chocolate for life.

A class of schoolkids from Pasadena are taking a tour of the Seymour Chocolate Factory when their teacher overbalances into a vat of dark chocolate. He’s slowly being dragged under to a cocoa-y death. Which is where we come in.

“Alright, boys, let’s pull him out,” Chim says. I brace one end of our lightweight ladder across the vat and he takes the other, as Buck starts climbing across the rungs so he and I can lift the guy out. Hen leans across the vat from the other side to meet us in the middle.

“Can you reach your hands above the surface?” I call to the teacher. He splutters something that I think is a no.

“OK, we’re going to grab under his arms,” Buck says, as he reaches the spot just above him. I watch him as he gets in position, and hold his gaze when he looks my way, a non-verbal question that he recognises and knows the answer to. I nod and he nods in response, confirming with each other that we’re ready for this, and reach our arms into the vat of warm, dark chocolate.

How is this man so heavy? Buck and I can lift decent weights in the gym, even at this awkward angle it shouldn’t be this hard. But neither of us can keep a hold, and he slips back into the chocolate soup, nearly taking Buck with him. My hand shoots out, bracing against Buck’s chest and gripping his shoulder tight.

“I gotcha, I gotcha.”

I don’t let go until I know he’s regained his balance. I promised to have his back, and I meant it.

“What’s happening here?” I ask everyone at large.

“Physics is happening,” Hen replies. “You’re creating a low pressure pocket when you pull him up and then that pocket is pulling him right back down.”

“Great, so basically, chocolate quicksand,” Buck summarises. And I’m kinda glad he did, because his version makes a lot more sense: Hen’s whole pressure pocket description wasn’t really working for me.

Chim instructs Hen to get a O2 tube ready so the guy can keep breathing if he goes under. Buck and I keep trying to drag him to the surface, but I know we’re not strong enough to lift him out. Hen gives him the tube to breathe through, then looks around for Chimney.

“OK, now what Captain?”

Silence. We all look then, and realise that Chim is nowhere to be seen. He’s vanished.

“Did our Cap just run away?” I ask aloud.

“I think he went that way,” one of the schoolkids says, and a part of my brain dimly wonders why no one thought to move them away rather than let them watch their teacher drown in chocolate, but that’s all I have time to think before he slips under again.

“Keep breathing, keep breathing!” Hen shouts as Buck and I lunge after him, and I know we’re only minutes away from losing him altogether.

“Coming through!”

Chimney is back, dragging a hose connected to a hanging vat of something. He pours a thick, creamy liquid into the vat, and we gawp at him.

“What the hell…?” Hen asks for all of us.

“It’s cocoa butter,” Chimney explains. “Tempers the chocolate, decreases the viscosity.”

He orders her to help him stir, as Buck and I groan and heave across the ladder.

“Keep mixing, it’s working!” Buck shouts, as our burden becomes a little lighter. And then, with a sucking sound, the teacher is finally free.

“Great thinking, Cap,” I tell Chim as we leave the factory, the teacher wheeled on a gurney ahead of us. He deserves some praise, it’s a tough job being captain.

“That was something,” Buck adds, and I glance back in time to see him licking chocolate off his gloves as he follows me outside. For one fleeting moment, I get the urge to lick a smudge of it off his face, and quickly repress the feeling. Because this call has given me an idea of how to make things right with Shannon. I have to try. For Christopher’s sake. And for our the sake of our unborn baby.

*

**Buck’s POV**

I just happened to be on top of our ladder truck when Eddie decided to make a FaceTime call to Shannon. I wish he’d picked literally anywhere else to sit and have this conversation. Now I’m trapped until he gets off the phone – it’ll be awkward if I climb down part way through their chat. Though hanging out on the roof listening isn’t exactly fun either.

“So, we just had lunch with your abuela,” Shannon says, and I hear Eddie’s abuela calling in the background.

“Hola!”

“Hola!” Eddie replies, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

“And now we’re gonna get some...ice cream.”

“Ice cream!” Christopher shouts excitedly, and my heart leaps at the sound of his happy voice. I love that kid, and while I’m not wild about whatever arrangement Eddie and Shannon have going on, at least Chris gets to spend some time with his mom.

“Ice cream,” Eddie repeats. “Wow, I do _not_ envy you putting him to sleep tonight.”

Shannon laughs.

“When I call you later to complain, just don’t say ‘I told you so’?”

Eddie laughs too. They sound so _happy_. That shouldn’t hurt me the way it does, cause that pang in my chest. Why can’t I just be happy for Eddie?  
“OK, I promise,” he says now. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” she replies.

This sounds like the end of the call, as well as the end of my tolerance. With a creaking of the ladder, I jump back down to the ground and straighten up, leaning over Eddie’s shoulder in time to catch the end of this lovey-dovey, happy family phone call.

“Whooo, when’s the wedding?”

My voice doesn’t sound quite like my own. I smile, but it’s as forced as the light-hearted tone of my voice. My head twitches to one side as I speak, another visual cue that I’m not acting myself. Luckily, Eddie’s not looking at me, so he doesn’t see.

“We’re already married,” he reminds me. Then he pauses and frowns up at me. “Wait, we don’t have to get married again, do we?”

Even though I’m the one who started it, suddenly I don’t want to be having this conversation anymore.

“Talk to Bobby,” I suggest instead, backing away. “Maybe he can get you guys a discount!”

*

**Shannon’s POV**

Eddie pushes a box of beautifully wrapped chocolates across the table to me. They’re one of my favourites – he remembered. But it’s making me a little nervous. The expensive chocolates, the rooftop bar with the twinkling lights, both of us dressed up...it’s all sliding somewhere serious that I’m not sure I’m ready for. And now I know I’m not pregnant anymore, I no longer feel obligated to keep trying to put our marriage back together. We were a terrible fit, me and Eddie. Of course we loved each other, but let’s face it, without Christopher we’d have divorced years ago. Maybe, one day, if we both grew up a bit more and the feelings were still there, we could make this work. But right now, it’s just not the right time.

But I can’t say any of this just yet. I’m not sure I know how to form the words yet. So instead I opt for humour.

“Is this some kind of Forrest Gump reference? _Life is like a box of chocolates_?”

Eddie smiles.

“Actually, yeah, life is like a vat of molten chocolate. Sometimes you fall into it, it drags you down, but it, it’s warm and you know, it’s sweet.”

It’s a good job he’s handsome, because this is hardly poetry.

“This is a very weird metaphor,” I tell him instead, trying again to keep it light and casual. Afraid of what he might say next. Because Eddie has always struggled to express his feelings in words, and if he’s trying, however badly, with this chocolate metaphor, I worry that he’s building up to something significant. Something that neither of us are ready for.

“When you came back into our lives, I was so glad. And afraid. I knew how much Christopher missed you, but I don’t think I realised how much I did too.”

Oh no. I was right. I need to say something.

“Eddie, umm...”

He cuts me off. Normally, that would annoy me. But tonight panic overrides irritation.

“Please, let me say this.”

He pauses, trying to get his thoughts in order. I hope and pray that what he says isn’t something we can’t come back from.

“We were so young the first time,” Eddie says. “Young and not ready. But we had this amazing kid. Being his dad has been the single greatest joy of my life, and that little boy has taught me more about being a man than war ever did.”

I can feel the tears building in my chest, threatening to choke me. Because memories and sentimentality make my heart want to break right in two. Why couldn’t he have said all this before? Why is this all coming too many years too late?

“You’re a good dad,” I tell him earnestly. “You’re a _great_ dad.”

As the tears spill over, I wipe them fiercely away. Eddie doesn’t seem to see the sadness on my face, to realise why I’m crying. He’s so wrapped up in this grand gesture, that he’s missed the warning signs. I gave him so many signs over the years that he never seemed to see.

“Well if I am it’s because he deserves it.”

I nod my agreement, because our little boy deserves nothing but the very best life. And that’s why I have to do this.

“He deserves his mommy too. He loves his mommy...and so do I.”

He reached across the table and takes my hand in his. I may not actually be pregnant, but right now I feel as nauseous as if I was.

“I want us to be a family again.” Eddie pauses and looks up at the sky, smiling. “I wished for a sign!” He looks back at me, and for a moment I wonder if I see the smallest flicker of uncertainty on his face. Maybe he’s not ready either. Maybe he’s just saying what he thinks I want to hear. Maybe, if I tell him the truth, he will be relieved too.

“I’m not pregnant.”

His face changes, but I can’t read his expression this time beyond surprise.

“What?”

“I’m not pregnant, I was just late. I freaked out, and then I freaked you out too, and I’m sorry.”

Eddie picks up his glass and knocks some of the contents back as I speak. Maybe he’s regretting what he said, the romantic grandstanding.

“That’s, gotta be a relief, right?” I ask, with no small measure of desperation. Maybe we could just be friends, and co-parents, and see what the future brings. Because it was a disaster the first time, what’s to say it won’t be again?

Eddie doesn’t meet my gaze, staring down at the table. I see him searching for the right words again. Finally, he looks back up at me, with an unconvincing smile.

“It doesn’t change a thing.”

“It does for me.”

“What?”

So I tell him about the letter I wrote to Christopher a few years ago. If, for some reason I never found my way back, I knew he’d want answers, and that none of what happened was his fault. When I realised I wasn’t pregnant, I dug it out and read it over again. And although I stood by every word I’d written, it made me so sad to read it and think that I might be sending it knowing that I would never see my little boy again.

“Eddie I never want to have to send that letter,” I tell him, shaking my head vehemently for emphasis.

“Why would you ever?” he asks, confused. And I know that we’ve been on separate tracks all along, on two different trains headed to two different destinations. All this time, Eddie has been working his way back towards being a husband and father again, on picking up where we left off in El Paso. And I have been trying to avoid that very same outcome.

I want Christopher and Eddie in my life. But I can’t give them both what they need without losing myself. And Christopher has to come first.

“Because if I try to do this again, before I’m ready, there won’t be a second chance. I can’t fail him again. Or you. And I won’t. I’m still learning how to be someone’s mother. Maybe after that I can learn to be someone’s wife.” And I smile at him through my tears, allowing myself one golden moment to imagine that it all worked out OK, and that we could make it through to a happy ever after. But I can’t do this now. If we get back together now, it will not work out. Of that, I am certain.

“We’re still married,” Eddie says uncertainly.

It takes a few breaths to find the courage to say it, to get the words out. When they come, it’s practically a whisper.

“I think we should get a divorce.”

*

**Buck’s POV**

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”  
“A car just drove through a crowd of people at a crosswalk! It looks really bad!”

*

When we pull up on Rose Avenue, I can tell this is going to be a bad call. You can feel the shock radiating off the crowd of bystanders nearby. Chim divides us up, and Eddie and I head to the driver of the vehicle. It’s a woman in a severe state of shock. Her face is pale and she can’t stop stammering, her skin cold and clammy. She says she didn’t see the people there. How could she not? But that’s not for me to ask. As Eddie questions her about her condition and puts a spinal collar on her as a precaution, I step out of the car to get some supplies from the medical bag.

“There, there was a lady, is she alright?” the driver asks us, and I glance automatically towards the other injured parties, where Hen and Chimney are dealing. A chill runs through my whole body, like I’ve been submerged in icy water. Because I know who the injured woman is, even from here.

“Buck, what’s going on?”

Shit.

Eddie sees my expression change from across the car. He looks over there too. And I know what he’s going to do before he does it. I race around the side of the car, completely ignoring the injured driver, and try to hold him back.

“Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, wait, Eddie!”

He pushes me away and strides over to the others. Hearing my shouts, Chim looks around and sees us. He gets up and goes to intercept Eddie himself. I’m frozen to the spot, not wanting to leave our patient, but unable to tear my gaze away. From Eddie, rushing across the road. And from Shannon, lying broken in the middle of it.

**Eddie’s POV**

It’s just another traffic accident. Until it isn’t.

Across the car, I see Buck’s face drop as he looks back at the crowd behind us. Something’s wrong. He never loses focus like this, he’s a professional. But something’s shaken him.

“Buck, what’s going on?” I call to him, trying to refocus him, and follow his gaze to see what’s got to him. When I see who it is, all my medical training goes out the window. Every ounce of professionalism I have is deserted. I straighten up, abandoning our patient, and start moving, as if in a dream, towards the woman in the road.

Buck charges around the car, trying to hold me back. He calls my name but I barely hear him, brushing him aside and marching over to Hen and Chimney. Chimney jumps up and throws himself in front of me.

“Eddie, let me handle it.”

“How bad is it?”

“It’s bad.”

Chimney will tell me. Medic to medic, he knows I need to understand this in logical, clinical terms.

“Spinal injury?” I ask.

Chim pauses for a moment before he answers me this time.

“Maybe worse.”

And I have nothing else to say to that. All I can do is crouch beside my wife, who lies sprawled across the road, dark hair fanned out behind her like a halo.

“Shannon,” I murmur urgently to her. And her expression, which was dazed and unfocused, snaps back to the present as she sees me.

“Eddie? Are you here?”

“I’m here.”

“Oh God. This is so embarrassing,” she says softly, every word an effort. She doesn’t seem to know how badly hurt she is.

Next to us, Hen yanks the stethoscope out of her ears and looks up at Chim.

“Vitals trending downward.”

“Alright, let’s get her on the backboard, get her transported, now!” Chimney shouts. I watch numbly as they shift her carefully and quickly onto the backboard. When she moves, I see the white stripe of the pedestrian crossing stained red with blood. Shannon’s blood.

“I’m riding with her,” I tell Chimney. Nothing seems real.

“She’s decompensating,” Hen reports. “We’ve got to intubate her.”

Those words mean something to me. The medic in me is trying to tell me something, but shock won’t let it through. Chim notices. He holds my gaze and gives it to me straight.

“Eddie. We put that tube in, there’s a good chance it never comes back out.”

His gentle words land like a hammer blow across my brain. There’s nothing we can do. We can’t save her. Shannon is dying.

My eyes water, and I feel my lip tremble as I fight to hold in the tears. I need to be there with her, I need to say goodbye to her. I can’t let her die alone. But I can’t seem to say anything, to push the words past the lump in my throat. But Chim must see it in my eyes because he turns back to Hen.

“Hen, stop. Do not intubate. Not yet.”

“ _Cap_ ,” she says urgently.

“I know.” He looks back at me. “He knows.” He pauses. “Get in there and say goodbye to your wife.”

It’s an order. And I have always known how to follow orders. I climb onto the ambulance on shaking legs.

*

**Buck’s POV**

Another crew turned up, and I dragged them straight over to the driver so I could go with my team to the hospital. I couldn’t stay behind. I saw how serious Chim’s face was when he spoke to Eddie. I watched Eddie crumple as he crouched beside Shannon on the road. How still he went. This is bad. Really bad.

I run to the truck in time to hear Hen shouting “she’s decompensating! We’ve got to intubate her!”

Chim stops Eddie at the door to the ambulance. I don’t hear what he says, but I know enough to know what’s happening. And by the time we get to the hospital, it’s all over. They call it. And Chim watches with tears in his eyes, and Hen with resigned grief, as Eddie follows his wife into the depths of the hospital, to certify her death and take possession of the few things she had with her. And all I feel is numbness and shock. That the woman who was so alive just a few days ago, talking to Eddie on FaceTime, who was alive just an hour ago, crossing the road like every other day, is gone.

I’ve seen death before. I’ve witnessed death close to home. But this one hits differently because it impacts Eddie. And I can’t bear to think of the pain he’s going through right now.

So I called Bobby. I knew Eddie would need him here. I would, if I was in his shoes. And he dropped everything and came straight over. He was there when Eddie returned to us, looking completely lost, clutching a bag of Shannon’s bloodstained clothes. He was there when my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, and all words failed me, and I couldn’t find the words to comfort him. Bobby was there to hug him, to keep him steady in a world that just shattered.

My best friend has lost his wife, the woman he loved. And his son, the best kid I ever met, has lost his mom. How can they ever be OK again after that?

*

**Eddie’s POV**

The sunset falls across the ocean and the sand, staining everything with the same red tinge as Shannon’s blood on the road this afternoon.

I’ve been numb for hours, moving like a zombie through everything that had to be done. Signing for Shannon’s possessions, making arrangements for her body to be transferred to a funeral director, beginning plans I’d never even dreamed I’d have to make.

Telling Christopher was the single worst thing I’d ever had to do in my whole life. I don’t think I’ll ever

My abuela took him tonight. She knew I needed time to grieve, to put myself back together before I could be strong for Christopher. My aunt was going round too to look after him – tonight, Chris will be surrounded by the unconditional love of my family.

I had to go to Shannon’s place, to sort through her things. And I found the letter she told me about, just the other day. So I carried it away with me in my pocket. Now I unfold it and read it in the dying light of the day.

Everything about that letter rips into my soul, but it’s these lines that really finish me off and bring tears flooding down my face:

_It’s okay to hate me for leaving. I will understand if you never forgive me._

_But always know that I love you, baby. Even if it’s from a distance._


	9. Hang On Buck

**Eddie’s POV**

“He is growing up way too fast.”

My mom is watching Christopher across my abuela’s backyard. This is my last day off on compassionate leave before heading back to work, and the Diaz family have gathered en masse for a barbecue, Texas-style.

“He was so brave yesterday,” my mom continues, handing me a beer. “At the funeral.”

The funeral was hard, but I didn’t expect any different. And she’s right, Chris was so strong. He’s always been strong. I always feel like I’m the one trying to live up to his bravery and positivity.

“Bravest kid I know,” I say simply instead.

“Just like his father,” she says, patting my arm as she takes a pitcher of iced tea to the table. I huff a laugh, because I don’t feel that brave. And because she’s omitting Shannon, as always. Pretending she didn’t exist, trying to erase her from Christopher’s history and mine.

“His mom was pretty brave too,” I say, testing the waters.

“How, by running out on him?”

I was wondering how long it would take someone to turn on Shannon. Why am I not surprised it was my father?

“ _Ramon_ ,” my abuela chides sharply.

“Pop, we’re not doing this,” I tell him firmly, coming to sit at the table with my parents.

“I apologise,” my dad says. But I can tell from my mom’s sigh that it’s not over yet. And I’m proved right when she drops into a chair next to me.

“Look, Eddie. Umm, we know Shannon loved Christopher.”

“Of course mom.”

Where is she going with this?

“OK. But she’s gone. And you are a single father, _again_. And the hours you work, Eddie? Come home.”

She says it like I’m some runaway kid that just needs to be told sternly enough to toe the line and I’ll do it.

“To El Paso?”

“Texas has fires too,” my father points out. “You could join a department there.”

I’ve never been the calmest. I have a reputation for a fiery temper, but since Shannon died I feel like my fuse has been cut in half. And my parents have always known how to rub me up the wrong way in the shortest time.

“Dad, it’s not that simple,” I tell him, trying to keep my voice even and failing. “I’m still a probationary firefighter. I’m so close to earning my shield, you want me to just throw away the last year of my life?”

They’re silent, none of them meeting my gaze. Do they really think that me striking out on my own the last year was worth so little? I’m proud of what I’ve done, of making a choice for myself and for Christopher. For starting again somewhere new, and making it work. Clearly my patents don’t see it that way. Just another mistake, another black mark against my name. Just another way I’ve managed to fail my son.

I see the shocked look on my aunt’s face, and realise she and abuela were in the dark too. But the rest of my family knew exactly what they were doing. The anger rises higher in my chest.

“Right. Is that why you all flew in here, huh? _Not_ for the funeral. But to bring us back, was that the plan?”

My mom nods eagerly, leaning forward to catch my eyes, to try and convince me.

“We could help you, and Christopher would be close to family, and you could have a life there.”

“We have a life here, _and_ family,” I reply heatedly. I have my aunt and my abuela. I have the 118, who accepted me and Chris unconditionally, and have done nothing but bend over backwards to support us. Bobby and Hen and Chimney. And Buck. I don’t want to leave them all to go slinking back to El Paso with my tail between my legs because my parents said so.

“Thank you, Eddie,” my aunt replies, dignified as always, and looks icily around at everyone else. “We are sitting _right here_ ,” she says, gesturing at herself and my abuela. My parents look away uncomfortably, and I can practically feel the chill in the air, even though it’s another blazing hot LA day. And it strikes me how crazy this is. Shannon is barely gone, and my parents are already here to fight over what remains. Like she never mattered, or existed.

I am trying to reconfigure my life without her. When she left me, I knew that she was out there at least, alive somewhere, even if she didn’t want to be with me. But now she’s gone and can never come back to us. That blows my mind in the worst possible way. I don’t want to be having this conversation at all, but definitely not today, the day after my wife’s funeral. The day after Christopher said goodbye to his mother.

“I won’t uproot him again,” I say firmly, wanting that to be the end of it. My abuela stands and walks slowly to stand behind my chair, resting a comforting hand on my shoulder. Her silent support gives me strength, reminds me that I don’t need my parents’ approval. Which is good, because it doesn’t seem like I’m getting it.

“Christopher hasn’t been here long enough to put down roots. He spent the first six years of his life in El Paso...with us,” my father argues, and I’m reminded of how stubborn we both are.

“Being with me is what’s best for Christopher,” I reply mulishly. I know Christopher and I can be happy here. We _are_ happy here. And we will make this life work.

“I chose this life for a reason,” I say finally.

“You could choose another one.”

My father always has to have the last word. But this time I let him, and swallow back my retorts with a mouthful of beer instead.

*

**Becca the Influencer’s POV**

A botfly. In my face.

SO gross.

I did _not_ sign up for this when I took that paid trip to Belize. Who knew being a beauty influencer could be so dangerous?

When I finally get back from the hospital, free of parasites (*shudder*) and with my arm still in a sling, I watch back the livestream video. And it turns out that the grossest thing that ever happened to me is also my most popular video. The comments are off the scale. I watch it all back, analysing the angles and the lighting. I still look cute, even with that gross hole in my face and my arm in a sling, so that’s something. Good job I picked that outfit. The blue sweater and the white skirt pop on camera, and don’t show off anything too revealing when I fall off my chair.

I already had pretty good audience figures before the fire department, but the comments spike when the firefighters turn up and those two guys move my dressing table.

‘ _Wait the fire department is here!!!’_

‘ _OMG these guys are So HOT!!’_

They were pretty hot. Which is why it’s even more embarrassing when the dark-haired firefighter points out that Belize is in Central America. Maybe I should brush up on my geography.

While the paramedics were helping me up and putting my arm in a sling, the two hot guys find the botfly on my dressing table. The taller, blonde one picks it up on camera and puts it in a pot. He didn’t even know he was on camera and he was still performing to it – what a pro!

The comments keep coming.

‘ _Those 2 can put me in a sling!’_

‘ _LA’s finest!’_

As they wheel me out of the room, I hear myself calling for my phone. The hot firefighters finally realise that they’re on video, and wave at the camera. The comments go wild.

‘ _Those boys are fine’_

‘ _Omg thos two are So CUTE together!’_

‘ _They should totally be a couple!’_

The dark-haired one picks up the phone. He’s not such a natural on camera, and looks a little uncomfortable at the thought of hundreds of people watching him live.

“Hi guys. Later.”

He tries to end the livestream, but doesn’t seem to know how it works. The blonde guy takes pity on him and takes the camera out of his hands, saying “Eddie, let me do it. We know how you suck with technology.” The last shot before the livestream ends is the dark-haired guy – Eddie, I guess – shooting the blonde guy a look that says he’s trying to be mad at him, but he’s too into him to pull it off and smiles instead.

Other than asking if I’m OK or talking about how gross the botfly was, all the rest of the comments are about those two firefighters. So I tap out a comment, because I was getting serious vibes from them and my followers should know about it.

‘ _Sorry guys, I didn’t get their numbers...I’m pretty sure they’re together. Maybe I’ll ask them if they wanna do a Couples Q &A with me sometime!’_

The likes on this comment are through the roof. It’s just a shame I can’t remember the firefighters’ names or what station they came from, or I totally would have asked their captain if I could interview them for my channel.

*

**Eddie’s POV**

The alarm sounds and the fire house empties. We rush out onto whatever trucks are available, so Hen, Chim and I are on one and Buck is on the other. We’re tearing through the city when a call comes in over the radio.

“118, 118, this is Dispatch. You’ve got Bobby Nash on the line. He says it’s important.”

Chim, up in the captain’s seat, looks around at me and Hen in confusion.

“Wait, what?” he asks. When he sees only blank faces from us, he turns back to the CAD screen in front of him.

“Dispatch, please repeat –”

BANG.

**Buck’s POV**

I hear Bobby’s call come through over the radio. He took off from work early because a mail bomb had been found at Athena’s, we didn’t expect to hear from him the rest of our shift. I’m frowning down at the radio, listening to Chim calling up dispatch for more info, when it happens.

A burst of light flares in front of me. A rush of heat, a roar, and the world tips over.

Flashing lights, car alarms blaring somewhere in the distance...and when I come to, everything hurts. My head, my face, my chest...and my leg. As glass shatters and falls out of the window onto my right leg, I realise that my left leg is trapped. The cry of pain that escapes my mouth is like no sound I’ve ever made before. I’ve never felt physical pain like this.

I’m pinned under the fire truck.

I force myself not to panic, to keep breathing and not struggle. I can’t lift my face from the road. Gravel scrapes against my chin and jaw.

Footsteps crunch over broken glass towards me. I hope it might be Eddie or Hen or Chim coming to find me. Instead, through the haze of pain and smoke, I see the blurry shape of a teenage boy stop in front of me. He’s holding something in his hands that has a glowing red light on it. He looks at me curiously, like I’m an interesting exhibit in a museum or at the zoo.

“You’re new.”

**Eddie’s POV**

This is torture.

We’re the closest to the blast, armed with our medical bags but ordered not to approach. I lean as far around the truck as I can. It takes everything I have not to break rank and disregard every rule in the book. Only the thought of this teen psycho detonating his vest and killing everyone here before I could get to him stops me sprinting out into the street to tackle him.

I can’t tear my eyes away from Buck. He’s so still out there. Hen confirmed that she saw him move, but he’s barely conscious, and I think part of the truck has come down on him. I’m back in a war zone, and these are my men, injured and alone and desperate for help. And I’m desperate to rush out there and deliver it, but our hands are tied.

“Dispatch, this is Captain 118. What is the plan? We’ve got people dying in the street.”

Chim is calm, but urgent. He assumes the role of captain easily tonight, like he was born to do it.

“Hold your position, 118,” comes the frustrated response, and Chim hisses in frustration. Out in the road, the teen bomber is pacing back and forth, growing increasingly angry.

“Give me the captain. Where’s the captain?”

He wants Chimney? We exchange glances, mystified. None of us recognise this kid, what does he want Chim for? Or does he just want any fire captain? Somehow, I don’t think so. We were a direct target. He’s after the 118.

“Agh.”

One of the guys from the early shift is groaning, squirming across the road. I can’t remember his name, but I know he stayed on overtime today because he’s just had a new baby. His agonised movements catch the attention of our teen bomber.

“Hey! I told you not to move.”

He advances on him, and I scan the bomber for any sign of other weapons. Has he got something else beside the bomb that he could use to hurt him? There’s a flash of movement to my left, and my head snaps round. Before Hen or I can stop him, Chimney ducks around both of us and out into the street, both hands up.

“Cap, cap! Cap!” I hiss at him urgently, but he ignores me.

“I’m the captain,” he calls, with a calmness I’ve never seen on him before. Like all the best paramedics, Chimney’s courage is driven by compassion. “I’m the captain, OK, so please, just let me help them OK, please.”

The bomber frowns at him, confused for a moment. Then his face darkens again.

“No. No, I don’t want you. I want Captain Nash.”

Well now we know who the bomb was meant for.

“Freddie!”

Bobby appears from the other side of the police cordon, taking us all by surprise. Over by the truck, I see Buck look up at the sound of Bobby’s voice.

“Thought you’d be on the truck,” Freddie says, with a look of grim satisfaction to see Bobby walking towards him.

“I’m here now.”

Bobby advances, hands up, without an ounce of fear in his voice or on his face.

“What’s next? This is what you wanted.”

“I wanted you dead.”

“I get that. What about them?”

Bobby sees Buck struggling to rise and points to him.

“What about him?”

I don’t know if I’d be singling anyone out to Freddie right now. But Bobby carries on, trying to get Freddie to care. And he’s using the person he knows best. The person he cares about most from our ladder. It’s one hell of a risk.

“He’s got parents, a sister, a girlfriend, and he never did anything to you. He wasn’t even a firefighter when your father burned down that restaurant!”

“Collateral damage,” comes Freddie’s response, without blinking.

A chill zips down my spine, despite the warm night, and I start forward, just a tiny bit. Beside me, Hen jolts in shock. I’m barely breathing, tension holding every muscle in my body tight. The rest of our house, our family, is out there in danger. And we can only stand and watch them.

“Is that how you see yourself? The unintended victim in all of this?” Bobby asks, advancing on Freddie.

“Stop.”

Freddie holds out the detonator at arm’s length.

“One more step and we all go boom.”

We don’t know the blast radius. Hen and I might still be OK. But Bobby and Chimney and Buck would all be dead. If that bomb goes off, it will take out almost every good thing left in my life.

“Freddie,” Bobby tries again. “You got dealt a bad hand and I am sorry about that. But what you did with it, that’s a choice. You stopped being a victim the moment you left that first bomb.”

“That lawyer. She did –”

“Her job,” Bobby interrupts him, calmly but firmly. “We were all doing our jobs.”

“Destroying my family. My mom and I lost everything. She was in so much pain.”

“You wanna make it worse? You want her to watch you die?” Bobby asks, and nods over Freddie’s shoulder.

They’ve brought his mom to negotiate. And it’s enough. It’s the distraction Bobby was hoping for. Because he throws himself at Freddie, wrestling for control of the detonator, and keeps him contained until S.W.A.T. appear and hustle him away.

As soon as Freddie is out of the way, we’re running. We crowd around Buck and drop down to examine him. I spot a bloody head wound, wince as I see the crush injury. The truck has his leg pinned. I’m surprised it didn’t shatter it altogether.

“Still with us, Buck?” Chimney calls.

“Buck, how are we doing?” Hen asks anxiously.

“Numb,” he manages to say, through a voice thick with tears.

“Skin is cold and pale,” I report. Because I have to stay in medic mode now. If I let myself think about this, I will fall apart. I fish a stethoscope out of the medical bag, fumbling it a little in my panic.

“Just hang in there, Buckaroo.”

“Hang on, Buck.”

My voice sounds confident at least, and I will strength into him as I say it. All the time I’m praying silently under my breath. I can’t lose Buck too.

“This is Captain 118,” Chim reports. “Got a probable crush injury. I need all hands on deck to move this truck and clear a path to the nearest trauma center.”

“How’s he doing?” I hear Bobby ask.

“Running out of time, Cap,” Chim replies, and I wish I hadn’t heard it.

“OK, let’s try and lift this off him,” Chim orders, and police and firefighters all charge up the road to grab hold of the truck.

Buck screams in pain as the truck lifts, and Hen and I try to pull him free. But it’s not high enough. It’s not enough to clear his foot.

“We’ve gotta lift higher,” Hen reports back to them, and they try again.

“Lift!”

Groans and grunts and heaves sound above us, but I don’t see any of it. My eyes are fixed on Buck. My hand grips his tightly, willing him to hang on, monitoring his vitals and praying. I’ve never prayed so hard in my life.

“Lift a little higher. Higher!” Hen shouts, watching his foot.

“Hang on Buck,” I say again. I can see his face contorted in agony, and above us the rescue effort have to stop, unable to lift the truck any higher.

“We got anything on the truck we can use for leverage?” I ask, scrambling for any option we have left. Bobby shakes his head.

“No, we need more people.”

“I’ll radio again,” Chim says. But he’s barely started speaking when the police barriers break. And the crowds of bystanders pour out from behind them, and race up the street to help. They flood the gaps around us, grabbing every inch of the truck they can reach. And, between them all, they finally clear the height we need. I wrap an arm around Buck’s chest and heave him free of the truck. We roll him onto the backboard, and from there heave him onto a gurney. And then six of us are running with the gurney to the ambulance as the crowd applauds and cheers.

“Hang on there, buddy,” I tell Buck, still monitoring his vitals. He’s been staring, unseeing, at the sky, but now his eyes find me and I see recognition flash across his face. I am painfully reminded of Shannon on the road, how she refocused on my face and my voice right before the end. I push it out of my mind. Buck is not going to die. Not if I have any say in it.

**Buck’s POV**

“Hang on, Buck.”

Eddie’s voice, calm and reassuring, as he kneels by my side. He and Hen stay with me, and I hear footsteps and voices above me.

“Hang in there, hang in there!”

Hen’s kind, frantic voice echoes above me. How many times have I heard her say that to someone else? And now she’s saying it to me.

And then there’s pain. Pain like I’ve never known, and I think my leg might actually shatter from the pressure of the fire truck. I can hear Hen shouting orders to the crowd around us, and the pain’s so overwhelming that I nearly black out, but I force myself to tune everything out and just focus on Eddie. His hand grips mine tightly, like he’s willing strength into me, and I pour all my energy into breathing and gripping his hand right back.

And then, finally, the truck lifts high enough to clear my leg. Eddie wraps an arm around my chest and he and Hen pull me free. Black spots cloud my vision as they roll me onto the backboard and up onto a gurney. Then we’re moving, and the whole world feels like it’s spinning. Through the high rises, I see the inky black sky, and wonder if it’s the last time I’ll ever see it.

“Hang on there, buddy.”

Eddie’s voice brings me home. I refocus on his face, and although his voice is calm his face is not. He’s worried. Fear is rising now – will I lose my leg? Will I ever walk again? The thoughts are enough to send me spiralling. But then Eddie’s expression changes. As they lift me onto the ambulance and he steps on beside me, he grips my hand again. Just once. But tightly, fiercely. And he shoots me a small, encouraging smile. And I allow myself a sliver of hope.

*

**Eddie’s POV**

A shiny white truck greets me when I next walk into work. I whistle, and run a finger along the shiny paintwork.

“That is a hell of a thing.”

“It’s a loaner,” Chim says, closing the side panel.

“A loaner? Chim! For real.”

They don’t trust us enough to own our own truck now?

Chim shakes his head.

“I’m kidding, we own it. With the caveat that we are not allowed to flip, crash it or blow it up any time soon.”

Meh, sounds fair I guess.

“But I made no promises,” says a familiar voice, and Bobby rounds the corner.

“Cap! You’re back!”

I move to hug Bobby, relieved to see him back where he belongs.

“I’m back,” he confirms.

“Well it’s kind of hard to fire a guy who’s a hero on the Six O’Clock News. Imagine the letters they would get.”

“Not to mention the fiery Tweetstorm that’d rain down on their heads, starting with me.”

Hen crosses the floor to us and hugs Bobby too with a relieved smile.

“Welcome back, Cap. About damn time.”

“Thank you. Feels great to be home.”

Chim leans towards her.

“But admit it, you do miss Captain Han just a little –”

“Not even a little,” Hen cuts him off, and Chim gives up, both of them smiling. Hen looks around.

“Things are finally getting back to the way they should be.”

“Almost,” I say quietly, my hands jammed in my pockets. Because there’s one person missing from this family reunion, and it doesn’t feel quite right here without him.

*

**Buck’s POV**

Ali was away for work today, and I’m kind of glad, because I know she wouldn’t approve of this. I think it’s only because she gets to see Chim that Maddie’s taking me to the fire house.

“Hey, whoa whoa, whoa, come on, be careful!” I protest, as Maddie gives up cutting the leg off one of my work trousers and starts tearing at it instead.

“Were you gonna sew these two pieces back together? I don’t think so.” And she shreds them for good measure.

“Doesn’t mean you had to rip ’em,” I grumble.

Maddie holds the remains of my uniform trousers up to inspect her butchery.

“Uh-huh, looks terrible,” I confirm for her.

“It’s gonna be fine, OK? I’m just gonna tuck it in the top of your cast.” She turns a disapproving look on me. “I don’t even know why I’m taking you. You shouldn’t be on your feet, you need to be healing.”

“Well, this is more important,” I argue stubbornly.

**Maddie’s POV**

This is more important? You’re not fooling me, Buck. You mean _Eddie_ is more important. It’s his firefighter graduation ceremony after all.

**Buck’s POV**

Bobby and Eddie stand in front of us, tables of family and friends watching on as Eddie is given his shield. I’m suddenly so jealous of them for being able to stand like it’s nothing, as easy as breathing. I have to get back in for that second surgery. The sooner they operate, the sooner I can heal and get back to work. I’ve missed this place already and it’s only been a week.

“People assume we choose this life,” Bobby says. “I’m not so sure. Sometimes I think this life chooses us. For those that answer the call, there can be no doubt, no equivocation. It’s not just the lives of those we serve that depend on us, but our own. The lives of our fellow firefighters and first responders. Today we welcome into those ranks a new brother. After a year of hard work and dedication, I am proud to officially declare that your probationary period is at an end. Welcome to the Los Angeles Fire Department, Firefighter Diaz.”

To round off Eddie’s ceremony, a special guest is presenting him with his firefighter helmet. I watch Christopher walk up between the rows of tables to meet Eddie, my hands pressed tightly together in front of my face so no one will see if I well up. When I passed my probation, no one was here for me like Eddie’s family are. Not even Maddie. He may have lost Shannon, but he has all these people around him. People who love him regardless of who he is and what he does.

This house is all I have. What would I do without them?

“What have you got for me, son?” Eddie asks, beaming at Christopher.

“I got your helmet,” Christopher says, as Eddie scoops him up in his arms. “Congratulations.”

Eddie smiles so widely I can see all his teeth, and it makes me smile to see him so happy, to see Chris so proud and happy for his dad.

The rest of the day is a party. I watch Maddie meeting Karen for the first time, Chim beaming away happily beside her. I watch Eddie’s parents fuss over Christopher, and Carla fusses over me. Eddie called her when I went into hospital, made sure that she was by my bedside when I woke up. I haven’t had the chance to thank him yet – the last week’s been so crazy, and we haven’t spoken yet today, it’s been so busy. But I don’t want to interrupt his day – he should be spending it with his family. It was enough to just be here, to show solidarity by being here for him today to celebrate all that he has achieved.

I’m just hobbling across the floor in search of Bobby when Eddie steps into my path. He looks at me, really looks at me, and puts his arms out, tilting his head from one side to the other to take in the view of my crutches and cast. Then we laugh and he wraps his arms around me. I can only offer one arm in return – the other one is quite literally holding me up – but I sink into his embrace, smiling against his shoulder and closing my eyes as I clamp my arm around his back and hold him close to me.

“Thank you for being here,” Eddie says quietly.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” I tell him, and I mean every word.


	10. Maybe You'll Learn Something

**Eddie’s POV**

We’re just heading back from the call out to Tony and the banana yellow, now slightly crushed, Daytona Spyder, when Bobby calls out to us from the front of the truck.

“Buck passed his re-evaluation. Set a new record as well.”

“Of course he did. He probably jumped out the window rather than take the stairs,” I say, rolling my eyes. But I can’t help but smile too, and I feel lighter already. It’s been a long five months without Buck at my side.

“Good job he passed, or all the effort Athena’s been putting into his surprise party would be for nothing!” Hen shouts.

*

The Grant-Nash household is decked out with lights, balloons and soul music when Christopher and I arrive that evening. I leave my son playing with Harry, and help Bobby out with the grill in the garden. It must have been a week since I last saw Buck. He’s been so focused on passing his re-certification that he’s spent all his time training to be in peak condition. I find myself checking the time every few minutes.

“They’re almost here!” Chimney calls, getting a text update from Maddie. A jolt of nerves shoot through me as I carry a platter of meat through to the house.

“Alright, and we are, almost ready?” I call back to Bobby, still manning the BBQ. He nods. I’ve barely had time to set the platter down before Hen’s hissing to all of us that he’s here, and the doorbell’s going and Athena’s striding up to the front door to meet Maddie and Buck. We all gather in the hallway below.

“Thank you for having us over, we appreciate it –” I hear Buck saying as he descends the stairs.

“Surprise!” we all shout, and he double takes on the stairs. Athena and Maddie are grinning from ear to ear with delight that their plan worked. Once he recovers from the shock, Buck turns to them.

“You knew?” Buck says accusingly to his sister.

“ _Yeah_ ,” she says, rolling her eyes. Buck points at Athena and then gives her a double high five, grasping her hands with his before he bounds down the stairs to us.

Buck catches my eye, and my stomach lurches, but I laugh at the huge smile on his face at seeing everyone here for him. I take half a step forward, unsure, but then I feel a hand shove me in the back, and close the distance to Buck without thinking about it. We throw our arms around each other, and I inhale a heady wave of his aftershave and cologne. His solid warmth against me is a reassurance I didn’t realise I needed. When we pull back to look at each other, I register briefly how close our faces are. Buck’s arm is round my neck, and I mirror his gesture with my arm. The other hand rests against his ribs, holding him close.

Then the others swarm in, and Bobby hugs Buck as I step away, feeling slightly self-conscious. I try to cover it, slinging an arm around Hen’s shoulders, before Buck comes for her too. My smile doesn’t falter once. Buck’s presence is like the Texas sun, and I feel happier than I have in a long time just basking in its glow.

**Buck’s POV**

Maddie’s been smiling away to herself the whole journey over, but we are only going for dinner with Bobby and Athena, so I assumed it was just a text from Chim that had her grinning like that. Then Athena answers the door with a huge smile too, but the penny still doesn’t drop until we’re halfway down the stairs. Then...

“Surprise!”

I don’t know how I didn’t see them all, but my heart leaps out of my chest in shock and I grab onto the railing. Everyone’s gathered in the hallway of the Grant-Nash household: Michael and Karen and Hen and Chimney and Bobby. Christopher’s there in one of his best shirts with a beaming smile. And Eddie, whose smile might be the widest in the room. My heart soars at the sight of them all waiting there, for _me_ , looking so happy to see me.

“You knew?” I say to Maddie, turning to her to hide a brief moment of shyness.

“ _Yeah_ ,” she says, rolling her eyes. I turn to Athena and double high five her, grasping her hands in mine before I head down the stairs to join my team.

Eddie’s the first one to come forward, his face alight with a smile I rarely see. I think I’ve only ever seen him smile like that at Christopher before. I cross the floor to him, and he meets me halfway. We’re wrapped up in a hug before either of us can say anything, laughing and smiling at each other instead. I can’t help but notice how good he smells, how the touch of his hands on my shoulder and my ribs sends warmth shooting through me. But it’s all a blur and before I can do anything more than smile at him, the others are surrounding us. I hug Bobby and Hen and beam at everyone, overjoyed to be back with my team, where I belong.

**Maddie’s POV**

Buck didn’t have a clue. I can keep a secret with the best of them. And from the look on my little brother’s face, I know it was all worth it.

Once he gets over the shock, he bounds down the stairs towards his team, and I’m not surprised that Eddie is the first one to greet him, stepping out from the crowd with a huge smile on his face. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile like that before. Eddie is a little hesitant at first, then I see Bobby shove him in the back and push him forward, into Buck’s arms. They hug and laugh and smile at each other, and my hand goes automatically to my heart as I watch. They’re such a natural fit together. When they break apart, I see Eddie keeps a hold of Buck, his hands lingering on him for as long as he can before the others claim him. Buck’s smile is bright for everyone, but the megawatt smile is reserved only for Eddie.

**Eddie’s POV**

Christopher and I corner Buck in the garden once he’s done an initial round of congratulations. It’s a little cooler and darker outside too, which I’m grateful for. I keep my arms folded across my chest, standing slightly back from Christopher and Buck to give them a moment together. And because I feel a little exposed after such a public display of affection towards Buck.

I don’t know where my kid gets his artistic abilities from, because it certainly wasn’t me or Shannon. Christopher has made Buck a card. On the front, he’s drawn himself and Buck standing either side of a surfboard. Buck’s in his turnout gear and helmet, and Chris is waving. The sun shines down on them, seagulls soar overhead, and you can see waves in the background. Written in rainbow letters in the sky is the word ‘Buck’ and, in brackets beneath it, ‘BFF’.

I’m cool with my son preferring my best friend to his father. Really I am.

Buck crouches down to Christopher’s eye level so he can focus all his attention on him, like he’s the only person in the whole world. Not many people treat kids like that, let alone kids with disabilities. But Buck has never treated Christopher any differently for who he is, and Christopher adores him for it.

“Wow, thanks buddy,” Buck says, beaming at Chris.

“It’s you and me,” Chris tells Buck, smiling shyly at him.

“Oh, and what’s this?”  
“It’s a surfboard,” I tell him, bending forward at the waist to fill Buck in without butting into their time together. Buck laughs. “ _Obsessed_ ,” I warn him. Buck grins, briefly catching my eye before returning to the card.

“‘ _Dear Buck’_ ,” he says, reading what Christopher has written inside. “ _‘You are an awesome firefighter! Love Christopher.’_ ”

I see Buck’s face fill with emotion as he closes the card.

“It’s very sweet, Christopher, thank you.”

That card goes up on Buck’s fridge for the next month.

*

I’m loosely aware of where Buck is all night. It’s been so good to have him back that my eyes can’t help but seek him out, track him around the party. I do notice him rubbing his chest a bit, like there’s a pain there that he can’t dislodge. So when I hear coughing during my conversation with a highly emotional Karen, I know who it is before I even look up.

Buck is stumbling back across the garden, hacking like he’s coughing up a lung. Bobby, who he was talking to, is asking him if he’s OK. Then Buck brings his hand away from his mouth covered in blood. He coughs again, and blood pours from his mouth. My heart stutters in my chest as Buck collapses back onto the grass. Then I’m running towards him with Maddie and Hen and Chimney, and Athena is calling 9-1-1.

“Hang on, Buck,” I say, the only thing I can say that might keep both him and me steady. And we get to work.

*

Chim texts us later that night:

_Pulmonary embolism. 2 blood clots in the leg and 1 in the lungs. Doc said the fact he was surrounded by trained medical professionals saved his life._

Not exactly the triumphant return to work party we had planned. I’m just grateful Buck’s alive, but it seems he’s not feeling the gratitude. The next time I get to work, Bobby is grim-faced. Buck is now on blood thinners, so Bobby had no chance but to put him on light duties. And what did Buck do in protest at being put on a desk job? Quit.

“Maddie says Buck hasn’t left the apartment in a week,” Bobby says a few days later. The four of us are gathered around a kitchen island preparing lunch. I look up at him and shake my head. I wish I could say I was surprised.

“Yeah, she’s tried to get him to go out a couple of times, but he’s always, ‘Why would I need to leave, everyone delivers?’” Chim says.

“He won’t even take my calls,” Bobby says quietly. Now I get it. He brought it up because he feels guilty. Buck looks up to Bobby, sees him as a father figure. If he won’t talk to Bobby then he’s trying to make a point. But this isn’t Bobby’s fault.

“He’s just sulking, Cap. He’ll get over it,” I say dismissively.

“Hey,” Hen interjects, frowning. “I like to give Buck crap as much as any of you, but this was a body blow, guys.” She rinses a bowl of salad and comes back to the counter. “You have to allow some time to mourn.”

“Question is, how much time?” Chim asks. “I mean, his daily routine of walking from the bed to the couch and back again isn’t going to help the situation.”

“Look, I know it sucks, but this is life, right?” I say. I don’t know what it is, but I feel angry at Buck, not sorry for him. Just because something didn’t work out, he has to sulk and mope and hide away from the world? This just a setback. He hasn’t known real loss, not really. I’ve lost my wife. I’ve lost men I worked with. I’m raising a disabled son alone. That’s hard. Life is hard. Buck is young and fit. He will be healthy again. He just needs to accept that life has changed for him, and to move on.

“Whenever stuff didn’t work out for me my dad always told me to brush it off, keep moving forward. Wasn’t easy but he wasn’t wrong.”

Chim nods next to me, but Hen is having none of it.

“Move forward to what?” she asks. “I mean, we all had lives, jobs, before we entered the department. And we have things outside of it. What does Buck have?”

I didn’t think of it like that.

Bobby lifts a dish out of the oven onto the counter top.

“Buck has us,” he answers. “Even though he may not believe that right now,” he says, and his eyes move to Chimney, then me. The scrutiny of his gaze pulls me up short, and a twinge of guilt thrums in my chest. I wouldn’t call my dad the best role model, yet I’ve been parroting his words all morning and applying them to Buck. I always try to avoid making the same mistakes with Christopher that my parents made with me. Maybe I need to try a different approach.

*

**Buck’s POV**

“Get up!”

The covers are ripped away from me and daylight floods my vision. Eddie. I knew I was going to regret giving him that spare key.

“Oh! _Why,_ man, come on.”

I groan, roll over and pull the duvet back over my head. I hear Eddie sigh, hear his footsteps move around the bed and stop beside me again.

“Because it’s morning,” he throws the covers back again, “and you have things to do.”

“No, I really don’t.”

“You need to get out of this house, and take a walk around the block….”

I ignore him and fall back onto the bed, taking the duvet with me. He keeps talking, and whips the covers back one more time. I start upwards again, and seriously consider punching him.

“...And get some fresh air,” he finishes. I glower at him. His sisters must have loved growing up with him. Is this the kind of treatment they got when their high school boyfriends broke up with them or they just wanted to hide away and feel sorry for themselves?

Realising that Eddie isn’t about to let me shut the world out and go back to sleep, I clamber out of bed.

“Why?” I say to him as I go. “What’s the point?”

“Well,” he says, still maddeningly patient. “The point is, your life isn’t over just because you’re not a firefighter.”

“Says the firefighter,” I say, to myself as much as him. It hurts to even hear it. I’m not a firefighter anymore. The one constant in my life, the one thing I’m good at, and now I’m not allowed to do it.

“You know that blood clot, could have almost killed you, but it didn’t?” Eddie says, still stood at the top of my stairs. I ignore him and move into the kitchen as he descends, rustling through empty takeout cartons and beer bottles. He gives a short laugh of frustration.

“You have your whole life ahead of you, so why don’t you just take it as a win?”

He doesn’t get it. Why can’t he see my side of this?

I search aimlessly through the kitchen for something to eat, studiously ignoring Eddie. My throat is dry and my mouth tastes of beer and takeout. I need a shower and a do-over at life. I don’t need a lecture from Eddie, who looks so fresh and sharp, even just in jeans and a Henley. I look like I’ve just come off a week-long bender. Which, let’s face it, I have. Eddie just makes me feel inadequate. Has since Day 1.

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

How can he lecture me like this? If he was in this position wouldn’t he be angry at the world too? What’s the point of doing anything else? Nothing else fills me with the joy and excitement that firefighting does. I don’t have a family like the rest of them, no one waiting for me to come home at the end of the day. Being a firefighter gives my life purpose and meaning. I don’t see my future without it.

I sigh, clenching my jaw to avoid saying something I’ll regret. I’m still angry, but I don’t want an argument. So I slope past Eddie, heading back towards the stairs, deliberately avoiding his gaze.

“Hey Buck.”

Oh.

Chris sits on my sofa, watching us curiously. How did I not hear them come in? Chris isn’t exactly quiet. That final beer last night must have really knocked me out.

“Hey buddy,” I say automatically. And Chris makes me smile for the first time in days, because you can’t help but smile when he’s around. He’s like his own little sun, always so happy and positive. All my anger temporarily deflates, and Eddie struts past me, smiling at his son too.

“What, what are you doing here?”

“He’s hanging out with his Buck today!” Eddie says, in a voice meant for Christopher rather than me. He hugs Chris, helps him back onto the sofa and turns to face me. “’Cause _I_ have to go to work today.”

He at least has the decency to say it quietly, knowing it’ll land like a knife in my back.

“Where’s Carla?”

I shouldn’t be left to look after Chris alone. As no one is shy about telling me, I can barely look after myself.

“She went to Marongo,” Chris chimes in. Where’s Marongo?

“Mmhmm,” Eddie says, turning back to me with that big smile he conjures for Christopher and no one else, the one where I can practically count all his teeth. It fades a little when he looks at me, his expression more serious. It’s halfway between pity and stern, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. I hate feeling pitied, but I’m not a huge fan of Eddie lecturing me either.

“So take him out, have some fun. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

Eddie draws level with me, invading my personal space that we always do. I never really picked up on it before. He leans close enough that he can drop his voice and I can hear what he says without Christopher hearing it too.

“He never feels sorry for himself.”

Eddie’s gaze returns to his son.

“Love you buddy!”

“Love you. Love you, Dad!” Chris calls after him. And Eddie is gone, without another word to either of us. The door shuts, and I am left to my own devices with Christopher. I take a moment to breathe deep and regain my composure, to plaster a smile on my face before I look over at Chris.

“So what do you like to do for fun?”

**Eddie’s POV**

OK, so Bobby’s talk got to me. That, and without Carla to look after Chris today, I’m in the market for a new babysitter.

I know Buck wouldn’t answer if I texted or called. Or he’d make up an excuse to hide away indoors and mope. It’s a gamble bringing Christopher straight here, without a backup plan or a guarantee that Buck will take him. But I’m fairly confident that my son can get through to Buck where no one else can.

I’m grateful that Buck gave me his spare key after the fire truck crushing incident. It made picking him up for his physical therapy appointments much easier the last few months, and now it means I can install Christopher on the sofa downstairs and survey the place before I go upstairs to tackle Buck. From the empty fast food containers and beer bottles littering the kitchen counter, I have a pretty accurate assessment of the shape he’s going to be in. It would also explain why he didn’t react when we came in – Christopher’s not exactly quiet.

I decide that tough love, army-style, is going to be the best way to get through to Buck.

“Get up!”

I rip the covers back, sending up a last minute prayer that Buck doesn’t sleep naked. Fortunately he’s fully clothed, though from the groan he gives, he’s also pissed at being exposed to cold air and daylight.

“Oh! _Why,_ man, come on.”

He rolls away from me and pulls the duvet back over his head. With a sigh, I follow him around to the other side of the bed.

“Because it’s morning,” I tell him, throwing the covers back again, “and you have things to do.”

“No, I really don’t.”

I ignore him. I’ve chosen to play this somewhere between dad mode and brother mode. It’s the only way I’ll be able to summon up the patience to deal with Moping Buck.

“You need to get out of this house, and take a walk around the block….”

Buck ignores me and falls back onto the bed, taking the duvet with him. Undeterred, I whip the covers back one more time. I catch sight of a strip of bare, toned stomach, where Buck’s t-shirt has risen up his chest. Before I can process the fact that I’ve even noticed this, Buck sits up again and glowers at me like he’s seriously considering punching me.  
“...And get some fresh air,” I finish.

I can see on his face when he gives up on the idea of hiding under the covers and hoping I’ll just go away. So he swings his legs out of bed and gets to his feet.

“Why?” he asks me. “What’s the point?”

“Well,” I say, keeping my voice even and patient. “The point is, your life isn’t over just because you’re not a firefighter.”  
“Says the firefighter,” Buck mutters, descending the stairs to the kitchen.

“You know that blood clot, could have almost killed you, but it didn’t?” I say, still stood at the top of the stairs. It’s the sequel to, ‘You know that fire truck, could have almost killed you, but it didn’t?’ Both memories flash through my mind, and my stomach turns at the far too recent memory of Buck coughing up blood at Athena and Bobby’s. At my heart stuttering with panic at the sight, before medic mode kicked in and the house full of trained medical professionals swooped in and saved Buck’s life. It’s not worth thinking about what would have happened if he’d been home alone when it happened.

Buck’s oblivious to my train of thought, moving aimlessly around the kitchen with a scowl on his face. I descend the stairs too, let out a short laugh of frustration.

“You have your whole life ahead of you, so why don’t you just take it as a win?”

He doesn’t get it. Why can’t he just be grateful he’s alive?

I stop short of the kitchen, at the bottom of the stairs. Buck won’t meet my eye. He won’t listen to me. He’s too determined to wallow in this. The others thought I could get through to him, but they were wrong.

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

Not the most sympathetic or understanding, I know. But he’s so lucky. He’s alive where so many people would be dead. He’s young and fit and healthy, and he could do anything he put his mind too. Maybe firefighting isn’t the career path for him that it once was. But that doesn’t mean the rest of his life is over. He has no idea what it’s like to have responsibilities, obligations, baggage. If I was in his shoes, I think I’d be taking off to travel the world, making the most of the curve ball.

It’s a good job I brought my secret weapon with me, because I can tell from the set of Buck’s jaw when he sighs and turns back towards me that we’ll only get into an argument if I keep trying to talk sense into him. Buck slopes past me, heading for the stairs, avoiding my gaze.

“Hey Buck.”

With perfect timing, almost as though he picked up the tension in the room and wanted to make things better, Christopher speaks up. I can see it’s thrown Buck, and I’m relieved to see a genuine smile split his face as he takes in the sight of my son on his sofa.

“Hey buddy. What, what are you doing here?”

“He’s hanging out with his Buck today!” I answer, deploying my plan as I lift Christopher up into a hug, then settle him back onto the sofa. I straighten up and turn to face Buck. “’Cause _I_ have to go to work today.”

I feel a bit bad at saying it, like I’m rubbing the fact that I get to go to work in Buck’s face, which wasn’t my intention. My tone drops, becomes a little sheepish.

“Where’s Carla?” Buck asks uncertainly.

“She went to Marongo,” Chris answers for me.

“Mmhmm,” I say, smiling automatically at him before looking back to Buck. My expression shifts into something halfway between understanding and deploying orders.

“So take him out, have some fun. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

As I draw level with him on my way out of the apartment, I lean in close enough that I can drop my voice and Buck will still hear me, but Christopher won’t.

“He never feels sorry for himself.”

I always tell Christopher that he can do anything. That he’s no different to any other kid. But he is different. He is limited. And yet he never gives up. He never wallows in self-pity. And maybe, just maybe, some time with him will help pull Buck out of the darkness.

I turn my gaze back to Christopher.

“Love you buddy!”

“Love you. Love you, Dad!” Chris calls after me. And I slip out of the door and leave them to it, not letting myself wonder what they might get up to today while I’m at work.

**Buck’s POV**

  
I’ve got to hand it to Chris. Santa Monica Pier was a great idea. Surrounded by bright colours and flashing lights, bells and whistles and shouts and screams, I can almost forget about everything for a while. The cotton candy looks radioactive, and I swear it can melt my teeth there and then, but Christopher loves it. The photos of us come out great, and Chris nearly busts a lung laughing at me when I’m told I’m not tall enough for one of the rides. I snapped a selfie of us at breakfast this morning and sent it to Eddie, making sure I’m smiling as widely as Christopher.

“I’m so proud of you right now, I could not be more proud of you!” I shout to Chris, as he smashes the water pistol game. And it’s true, this kid who has the whole world against him still overcomes everything. I feel proud just to know him and be his buddy. His BFF, as it said on the card he gave me that nearly made me cry. I can’t imagine how proud Eddie is of him, father to the most amazing boy I’ve ever met.

But then a fire truck turns up to a medical emergency on the pier, and it feels like my heart is wrenched right out of my body. I’m transfixed, watching from a distance, longing to go over and join them. It feels like I’ve been kicked out of the only club I ever wanted to be a part of, and now they have to rub it in my face by showing up here, where I was trying so hard to forget.

Dimly I register Christopher calling me. The bear he’s won is almost bigger than he is.

“Are you OK?” Chris asks.

“The universe is mocking me,” I mutter. To him I say, “Let’s go and feed the fish.”

*

“You ever think about what you wanna do with your life? What you want to be when you grow up?”  
Chris is standing on the bench looking out to sea. I’m facing back down the pier, but gripping a fistful of his shirt so I know he can’t topple over the edge. The bear sits beside me, looking after Christopher’s crutches.

Christopher looks down at me, considering my question seriously.

“Astronaut, or a pirate.”  
I nod.

“Some good choices,” I say. “Cool outfits too.”

“No way, a firefighter!”

Ah, the injustice.

“Yeah, me too.”

I’m taking life advice from an eight year-old. Have I really gotten this desperate? But Chris is wiser than his years, and it can’t be any worse than Maddie’s anxious hovering and Eddie’s Sergeant Major Tough Love routine.

“But Chris, if those career paths don’t work out, I hope you do find something you love. You know, something you’re good at. Makes you feel like you matter. Something you could do forever. ’Cause when you do, it’s gonna tell you who are, and it’s gonna show you the rest of your life. And that is the best feeling.”

Oh no. My throat closes up and tears threaten. I haven’t cried since a particularly low point missing Abby. I can’t do it now on a pier surrounded by a bunch of strangers and my best friend’s son. No way. So I swallow it down and force myself to keep talking.

“I hope you get that. And I hope you get to keep it.”

Chris is looking down at me now, and I can see the sympathy in his eyes. Somehow it doesn’t feel patronising coming from him.

“You’re gonna be OK, kid,” he says softly, and takes hold of my chin with his hand. I can tell those are words he learned from Eddie. I can almost imagine Eddie saying them to me. I smile up at Christopher, wondering when he got so wise. Then my gaze snags on something over his shoulder. Gripping tightly onto Chris, I stand and turn to face the sea. As other people gather at the edge of the pier beside us, I follow the ocean right back to the horizon. The water has been sucked away from the shore into a monstrous tower, rising up and up into the sky. And it’s heading straight towards us.

*

“Where did all the water go?” Chris asks.

A siren blares. The harbour master has sounded the alarm. We have to go.

I snatch Chris up, sling him over my shoulder and run for it. I leave the crutches, the bear, everything. Nothing else matters except Chris.

I’m a fast runner, but the wave is faster. With Chris on my back, we won’t make it off the pier before the wave hits. I drop Chris behind the barrier of a stall and glance back out to sea. I’m confronted with a wave several stories high, heading straight for us. The sight will fill my nightmares for weeks afterwards. I leap over the edge of the stall to join Chris, as the wave smashes through everything in its path.

*

Everything is so loud and so quiet, all at once. I tumble through the water so many times that I lose track of which way is up. I’m holding my breath for so long that my lungs burn. But I keep kicking, keep swimming, and finally I resurface. And, against all the odds, Christopher is there too, clinging to a streetlamp not far from me. My heart nearly stops when I’m dragged past him on the current, when he says he can’t hold on much longer. And then he’s swept into my arms and I cling on tighter to him than I have to anything else in the world.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” I tell him, over and over again. The relief is like nothing I’ve ever felt.

And then we see a fire truck and it’s like a sign. I make for it, launch Chris up onto the roof, and make to join him. The crunch and screech of metal behind us alerts me to the sound of debris, heading our way. I suck in a deep breath and duck down below the waterline, clinging to the truck door until it passes. Then I haul myself onto the roof of ladder truck 136.

A fire truck nearly killed me. And now a fire truck has saved me too. Guess that means fate is even for now.

**Eddie’s POV**

We’re putting out a fire at Dogtown Dogs hotdog stand when Hen calls over to me.

“Any word on how Operation Buck Up Buck is going?”

I only told the others about my plan once I got to the station, having successfully delivered Christopher. Chimney came up with the name, and I make a note to tell Christopher about it once I get back. He’ll get a real kick out of it.

I fish in the pocket of my jacket and extract my phone. Hen and Chimney crowd in on either side as I open the text I got from Buck earlier and show them.

“Well this was this morning.”

The text reads, _He wants pancakes. So we’re doing pancakes_

The photo is of Buck and Chris sat close together at a table, beaming at the camera. A monster stack of pancakes sits in front of them, and Buck’s smile is that of a naive rookie babysitter who doesn’t realise the chaos coming his way once those pancakes have been demolished.

“Full stack and then I think he said maybe the movies. Right now Chris is coming down from a serious sugar high and Buck’s regretting his life choices.”

“Hey, did someone leave a hydrant open?” Bobby shouts, and I notice we’re still standing in about a foot of water. Then my phone buzzes. I read the screen and my heart sinks. We’re in for a long shift.

“I don’t think it’s a hydrant, Cap,” I tell him. Above the photo of Buck and Christopher is now an SMS Tsunami Warning. Magnitude 7.5. Location: Santa Monica, Los Angeles County.


	11. Just Keep Swimming

**Buck’s POV**

I don’t ever want to let go of Chris. We’re soaked through and freezing, the water level hasn’t dropped an inch and I have no idea how we’re getting out of here. But we’re together and we’re alive. As other random survivors join us, I keep Chris close and think of ways to keep him distracted while we wait for rescue.

“I-Spy with my little eye...”

Christopher’s positivity is still off the charts. I don’t think anyone else could be this cheerful when they’d almost drowned. Only Chris.

“You amaze me, buddy,” I tell him.

“Why?”

“I got some bad news at work the other day, and I didn’t want to get out of bed for a whole week. But you, after the day you had, here you are with a big smile busting a gut.” I smile at him and then my expression grows serious. “You never gave up. When that water was rushing over you back there, you just kept on swimming.”

“Like Dory?” he asks. Of course. Those films have a lot to answer for.

“Yeah, like Dory,” I smile. “Not just today, but every day. You never say no, you never complain, how do you do it?”

“Well I complained once, but it didn’t work.”

“So what did you do?”

“Just kept on swimming.”

“Like Dory,” I say again quietly. I didn’t think I could love this kid any more than I already do, but he keeps proving me wrong.

*

Murmurs from the other passengers catch my eye, and I see bodies floating towards us. I can’t let Chris see that. He’s gone through enough already today.

“I-Spy with my little eye...something up high.”  
I lift him up so he’s sitting on the side of the truck with his back to the water, peering at the sky. He laughs, and I keep him talking, keep his eyes anywhere but behind us.

Eventually my thoughts turn to Eddie. I hope the others weren’t swept up in this, like the lost crew of the 136, but I also keep hoping that I might see them round a corner at any moment coming to our rescue. I voice some of my thoughts out loud to Chris.

“I don’t know what I’m going to tell your father. I take you out one time and look what happens.”

Eddie should never have trusted me to look after Christopher. His son, his _only_ son, and I put him in mortal danger.

“You saved me,” Chris says quietly. It catches me by surprise and I look down at him. “And you saved them,” Chris says, looking at the other people I’ve helped up onto the roof of our adopted fire truck.

“No, we did that together.” I point to my chest, then to his. “Me and you, we make a great team.” I hold my hand out, palm up. “Give me a high five, I’m proud of you.” I carefully wrap him in a hug, feeling my heart might burst with love for this extraordinary kid. Eddie’s a really great dad, but even then, how did he manage to raise such an incredible kid?

“Thank you, Buck,” Chris says, hugging me tightly.

Then the water picks up speed again.

“Everybody get down, hang on!” I yell.

More people are coming towards us, swept up in the current. They shout to us for help, and I leave Christopher with one of the other people on the roof for one second to lean over to try and pull people to safety. Then the truck jolts. We all rock, and I hear a splash on the other side of the truck. I don’t know how I heard it, over the rush of water and the yells all around me and the creaking of metal, but I know what it is. I _know_.

And when I turn around, the awful truth is confirmed.

“Christopher!”

I keep shouting his name over and over, but I don’t see him. I can’t hear him. I scan the rushing water for him, but see nothing. No striped yellow shirt, no glasses, no blonde-brown curls. My heart is hammering in my chest, and I can barely draw breath through panic. How could I have lost him? Eddie will never forgive me. I wouldn’t forgive me.

I have to go after him. I know how dangerous it is to throw myself back into that water. It’s so deep, there could be anything under the surface that I can’t see. Something could drag me down or break my legs. But I can’t leave him. I won’t. So I take a running jump off the truck, and I keep swimming.

*

Christopher’s glasses.

They stand out because of their bright red rubber strings. When I see them, wild hope flares in my chest. When I don’t find Chris anywhere near them, panic rises instead. Chris is out there alone. He can’t walk far, he can’t run, and now he can’t see.

I have to get a grip on myself. I can’t lose it yet. I just have to keep searching. I’ve made it to a part of town where I can wade through the water rather than swim, so I keep moving.

I lift the glasses over my head, and wear them around my neck, like a talisman. And I pray that they will bring me back to Chris.

**Eddie’s POV**

I fish my phone in its waterproof zip pouch out of my pocket.

“Who are you calling?” Lena Bosko asks, still scowling from the pain and being ordered to go to hospital.

“My son. He lost his mother a few months ago, don’t want him to worry.”

The call goes straight to voicemail, but I’m not overly surprised. Cell service is bound to be patchy in LA right now with all this carnage. And if they went to the movies, Buck probably turned his cell off. I leave a message instead.

“Hey Buck, it’s me. Just want you to tell Christopher I’m going to be a little late picking him up, got our hands full here.” I don’t want to sound like I’m rubbing it in his face, as I know there’s nothing Buck would enjoy more than getting stuck in here, so I add, “Good thing you’re missing it.” I just hope they’re as far away as possible from here, hyped up on sugar and perfectly safe.

It’s been hard since Shannon died to say goodbye to the people I care about every day, worrying that you might not see them again. Tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone. But I can’t say that over a voicemail. Or ever. So I swallow down the fear of loss that sits constantly in the pit of my stomach these days, and say instead, “Hope you guys are having fun.”

I cut the call and jog after Bosko to the truck that will take us to the field hospital, putting Buck and Chris out of my mind.

*

**Buck’s POV**

I feel like I’ve been wandering for hours. Every child I see could be Christopher. Every time they’re not my heart takes another dent. My head is light, my vision is blurred.

“Hey, you’re bleeding,” someone says. A guy is looking at my arm, and as I lift it up to eye level I can see that it is coated with blood. I didn’t even notice when it got cut. I sway on my feet and feel hands around me, bystanders easing me into a chair.

I barely notice, wooziness and panic clouding every thought and feeling. Someone wraps up my arm with a strip of cloth, and I manage to murmur a thank you. As the blood soaks through the makeshift bandage, I wonder vaguely why there’s so much bleeding. Then I remember the blood thinners.

Doesn’t matter. Have to find Christopher. Just keep swimming.

At some point, I stand up again and keep walking, blindly searching every street I come to, following the crowds of people and scanning each one for a lost little boy I should never have let out of my sight.

*

**Buck’s POV**

Finally I end up at what must be some sort of field hospital. There are fire trucks, ambulances, police cars and medics everywhere, so I know that this must now be my best chance to find Chris. I see a woman in scrubs with a stethoscope and a clipboard checking names, and lurch over to her.

“Ah, hey, excuse me, I’m looking for a kid. He, he’s got brown hair, Christopher.”

“How old?”

“Ah, eight, maybe nine.”

How can I not remember Chris’s birthday? I’m sure I know this, but my mind can’t dredge up the date. “Last name is Diaz.”

“Christopher Diaz...no, not here.” She pauses. “You may want to check over there at the black tent.”

I follow her gaze, and see the mounds hidden under sheets and inside bags. A chill spikes through my chest.

“Isn’t that the...?”

I can’t say the word, can’t force it out of my throat. She does it for me.

“The morgue. Excuse me.”

She leaves, and with her the last of the hope I’d been holding onto drains out of me too.

**Maddie’s POV**

Poor Reggie. And poor Charlie. How am I going to break it to her that her artist friend is gone?

My phone rings, sparing me that worry for a few minutes. I don’t recognise the number, but answer anyway automatically.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

_Buck?_

“Buck? Where are you, I don’t know this number.”

“I borrowed someone else’s phone. Maddie, I need your help.”

His voice is strange. Low, like he doesn’t want to be overheard. And I recognise the pain lancing through every word too. Is he hurt? Where is he? I fall back into dispatcher mode.

“OK, um, tell me what’s wrong, are you hurt?”

“Eddie dropped Christopher off with me. He thought doing some activities with him would help get me out of my apartment, out of my head.”  
Clever Eddie. Of course. The one person Buck can’t say no to. It’s not me, or Bobby or Eddie. It’s Christopher. I should have thought of that.

“Maddie, I brought him to _the pier_.”

“My god, you were there?”

“I had him, alright Mads, I had him, I kept him safe. We were...we were on top of the ladder truck, and then the water receded...”

“Hey, you’re not answering me, are you injured? Bleeding?”

Tears are pricking in the corners of my eyes. Buck sounds broken. I know he’s hurt, he just won’t tell me.

“No, it doesn’t matter, don’t you hear what I am saying? Christopher is gone. I checked the emergency refuge camps at the promenade and...”

“OK, did you check the VA Hospital, the command centre, you know, on Sotel?”

“I’m here now, he...”

His voice trails off.

“Oh God, God not now.”

The panic in his voice amps up, and I hear him running.

“What?”

I hear Buck taking deep breaths at the other end of the line.

“Eddie’s here.”

“Does he know what happened?”

The silence at the other end confirms what I already know. Buck wouldn’t be calling me if Eddie already knew.

“Evan, you have to tell him.”

I never use Buck’s first name. He avoids it, has preferred Buck for years. I only use it when I really need to get through to him. Like now.

“How do you tell your best friend that you lost his son?”

Buck is on the verge of tears, holding back the hysteria. But I have to get through to him on this.

“No no no. He’s his _father_. You have to tell him that Christopher is missing.”

Eddie has to know. Buck has to tell him. I can feel the dread and fear rolling off Buck like it’s physically pouring down the phone line to me, and I wish I was there to give him a hug and strength.

“No Maddie, I need to keep on looking for him, I need to _find_ him.”

“Buck, you are in no condition to go looking for Christopher by yourself.” The tears are on the move now, and so am I. “I’m coming down there.”

I end the call before he can answer back.

**Buck’s POV**

I’m so glad I memorised Maddie’s number. I’m even more glad when she picks up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Buck? Where are you, I don’t know this number.”

“I borrowed someone else’s phone. Maddie, I need your help.”

Every word is an effort, but Maddie is the one person I can turn to now. The one person who won’t judge me and shout at me. The one person who might be able to make this better. I wish she was here.

“OK, um, tell me what’s wrong, are you hurt?”

“Eddie dropped Christopher off with me.” It feels important to tell her everything, like confessing to a crime. “He thought doing some activities with him would help get me out of my apartment...out of my head.”

I grimace. Eddie was totally right. He trusted his son with me, thought that Christopher would be the trigger to get me out of my mood. And he did. But look at the cost. If it weren’t for me, Chris would never have been on that pier. He would be at home, safe. And Eddie wouldn’t be losing his wife and his son within a couple of months of each other. And it wouldn’t be my fault that Eddie lost the best thing in his life. My voice is choking up, the tears fighting for release.

“Maddie, I brought him to the pier.”

“My god, you were there?”

“I had him, alright Mads, I had him, I kept him safe. We were...we were on top of the ladder truck, and then the water receded...”

I see it all playing out in my mind again. I’ve seen it a thousand times in the last few hours, and hated myself more and more each time for letting Christopher go.

“Hey, you’re not answering me, are you injured?” Maddie asks at the other end of the line. “Bleeding?”

“No, it doesn’t matter, don’t you hear what I am saying?” I’m not important, how can she not see that? “Christopher is gone. I checked the emergency refuge camps at the promenade and...”

“OK, did you check the VA Hospital, the command centre, you know, on Sotel?”

She’s gone into dispatcher mode, calm and controlled. I try and draw strength from her, because I’m all out of mine.

“I’m here now, he...”

Then my heart breaks clean in two. Because as I scan the crowds, still searching, always searching, for Christopher, my eyes are drawn to the silhouette of a firefighter in the doorway to the hospital, giving people directions and calmly managing the chaos around him. Tall, dark, handsome, and totally oblivious to the world of pain I’m bringing to his door today. Eddie.

And, like a coward, I run.

“Oh God, god not now.”

I sprint out of sight and hide behind the walls of one of the tents.

“What?” Maddie asks.

I take deep breaths, trying to calm myself even as the world feels like it’s spiralling out of all control. I have walked into hell.

“Eddie’s here.”

“Does he know what happened?”

I can’t answer her.

“Evan, you have to tell him,” Maddie says urgently. I can’t remember the last time she called me Evan. But that doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except finding Christopher.

“How do you tell your best friend that you lost his son?”

Saying the words out loud nearly breaks me. Tears threaten to choke the air right out of me.

“No no no. He’s his father. You have to tell him that Christopher is missing.”

I can’t. I’m too much of a coward. I can’t look at Eddie, see the trust in his eyes fade, replaced by hatred and betrayal. I can’t be there to see his heart break for good. Especially when I’m the reason for it.

“No Maddie, I need to keep on looking for him, I need to _find_ him.”  
“Buck, you are in no condition to go looking for Christopher by yourself. I’m coming down there.”

She ends the call.

“Maddie, no Maddie, no!”

She’s gone. I’m alone.

And then…

“Buck?”

**Eddie’s POV**

“Buck?”

About the last person I expected to see emerges from around the side of one of the tents. He’s a wreck. Livid scratches across his face have just missed his eye, his right arm is wrapped in a filthy rag soaked through with what I know will be Buck’s own blood, and his clothes are drenched.

“Are you OK?” I ask, moving towards him automatically, scanning his body for injuries. He should get that arm seen to, the blood thinners will have made him bleed more than he normally would. And if the cut’s infected…

Then it hits me.

“Wait, where’s Christopher?”

“Eddie.”

The seriousness of Buck’s voice stops my questions short. His eyes are filled with tears, and now it properly hits me that he is alone and wearing Christopher’s glasses. Panic like I’ve never felt before is rising in my chest.

“Why do you have his glasses?”

Buck is barely holding it together. He touches Christopher’s glasses, where they hang around his neck. He takes short, sharp breaths every few words, like he can barely bring himself to say them out loud.

“We, uh...me and Christopher, we were...at the beach, and umm...and listen to me OK, I swear to you…I tried...”

Time seems to have slowed down. My whole body feels numb. Christopher, out there, alone, maybe…?

No. I can’t let myself think the word. I can’t lose him so soon after Shannon. Not now, not ever. That’s not how it’s supposed to go.

Buck takes Christopher’s glasses off and gives them to me, his eyes pleading with me, begging me to understand that he did everything he could. And I know he will have done. I find myself nodding at him, even as my vision blurs and my jaw locks tight.

“Eddie, I don’t know how to say it, umm...he just vanished...”

As my body starts to shut down, my gaze snags on something over Buck’s shoulder. A woman holding a bundle that could be a gangly child, wrapped in an oversized red hoodie.

“Christopher…?” I whisper, and step past Buck, heading straight for her.

“Christopher?” I call again, louder.

“Dad!”

“Oh my god.”

Relief washes through me like adrenaline. I lift my son out of this woman’s arms, and drop to one knee in front of him, hugging him tightly to me, checking him for injuries.

“Thank you, thank you,” I say to the woman, kissing Christopher’s forehead and pulling him in close to me.

“You’re Buck?” she asks. I frown and look up at her.

“No, I’m his father, Eddie.”

“He was looking for Buck,” she says. It takes me a moment to register all this: the waves of relief are all-consuming and nothing else sinks in, but then I glance over at Buck. The sheer joy on his face outstrips even my own, and I realise then just how much Buck loves my son.

I spent a few seconds thinking Christopher might be dead, and they were pretty much the worst of my life. How many hours did Buck spend thinking the same thing?

Hen and Chimney and Bobby have clocked Buck now, and they crowd around him. He barely sees them, still looking over at us. I watch his eyes roll up into his head, and he slumps forward. The others catch him, help him to sit. He refocuses on me and Christopher, hanging on to Hen’s arm across his chest. And I can’t tear my gaze away from him either.

**Bobby’s POV**

Hen and Chimney are crowding round another patient. It takes a moment to recognise him as Buck. He’s covered in blood, fresh and dried, he’s soaked through, and his clothes are ripped and torn. He’s sporting scratches across his face and his right arm is wrapped in a filthy, blood-stained rag. And he doesn’t seem to register any of it.

“Hey,” I say. But he is staring past us, and when I follow his gaze I see Eddie and Christopher. Eddie is on one knee, supporting his son in his arms. I knew Buck and Christopher were spending the day together, and one look at Buck’s appearance and the way Eddie’s clutching onto Christopher, and I know they’ve been caught up in this tsunami too.

“You two OK?” I ask Buck.

“Yeah...we’re great...”

The words trail off as Buck’s eyes roll up into his head and he pitches forwards.

“Whoa!”

I think Hen, Chimney and I all say it at once, all grab hold of Buck at once. At 6’2”, it needs all three of us to hold him up. We help him sit down on the nearest camp bed, and Hen wraps an arm across his chest.

“Hang in there, Buck.”  
He grips her arm for dear life, refocusing his gaze on Eddie and Christopher. His chest heaves with relief and unshed tears. I glance back over at Eddie. He can’t take his eyes off Buck either.

*

**Eddie’s POV**

Christopher sleeps with me that night. We could both do with the reassurance. Eventually, I ask him to talk to me about what happened.

“Buck saved me. He saw the wave coming towards the pier, and he picked me up and he ran so fast, and we hid, but the wave washed us away...but we just kept swimming, and Buck found me and he saved me. We were on top of a fire truck, and we played I-Spy and he saved a load of other people too. And then I got lost, but I kept looking for Buck, I tried to find him again.”

The unfiltered account of an eight year-old is the most honest thing you can ever hear. I also know it’s the most truthful account I’ll get of what happened that day. I can ask Buck, but his version will be clouded with self-doubt and self-judgement. Christopher’s unvarnished version floors me. Bobby tells me later that Buck told him snippets of what happened. How he wandered for hours searching for Christopher. How he shouldn’t have been able to keep going that long, having lost so much blood from the cut on his arm. How, after losing Christopher, Buck leapt off the fire truck into the churning water to search for him.

“You know it’s practically suicide to do that?” Bobby asks me. “He could have gotten tangled up in debris and drowned, could have broken his legs on a car under the water, could have been caught up in another wave he wasn’t strong enough to fight...and he would have known all of that before he jumped.”

“I would have done it,” I admit.

“So would I, for my kids, or for May and Harry,” Bobby says. “But Christopher isn’t Buck’s kid, and he did it anyway.”

I have to see Buck. Chris has to see him. And I think Buck might need to see us too. So I load Christopher and a backpack into the car and drive over to Buck’s before my next shift. This time, I knock on the door rather than letting myself in. Buck couldn’t look more floored to see us.

“Uh,” he says uncertainly, as Christopher motors his way towards him.

“Hey, Buck,” he says, hugging Buck around the waist.

“Good morning, Buck,” I follow up, a smile in my voice. I try to sound as normal as possible, hoping that between me and Christopher, we can bring Buck back to himself.

“Hey...hey, buddy,” Buck says, a smile breaking the serious look off his face as he hugs Christopher. He glances up at me with that smile still in place, though I can tell he’s confused, maybe even afraid that I might be about to sound off at him for getting separated from Christopher during the tsunami.

I take my son’s lead and motor into the apartment before Buck can ask any questions or change his mind about letting us in. I swing the rucksack I’m carrying onto the table and give Buck a quick inventory of the contents.

“OK, there’s a morning snack and a midday snack, two colouring books, and a bunch of Legos.” I lower my voice and catch Buck’s eye. “Between us, he’s never built anything that looks like anything, he just kinda like sticking things together.” I make the motion with my hands as I say it, and check that Chris isn’t watching. But he’s already made his way to the coffee table.

“It’s right there, buddy,” I confirm with him, gesturing to the TV remote. Then I turn back to Buck, who is still gawping at me like I’ve sprouted wings or a second head.

“There’s twenty bucks,” I hold it up, continuing my inventory, “for a pizza, and if I were you,” I eye him up and down briefly. Buck looks like hell. “I’d eat a couple of extra slices. Look like you’re wasting away to nothing.”

“Eddie.” Buck’s voice is low, almost angry. I keep pushing the breezy act, hoping I can steamroller him into acceptance without a fight.

“I will honestly say, you being laid up, is working out for me. I mean, you’re no abuela, and you’re half of Carla, but you’ll do in a pinch.”  
Abuela and Carla were both free today. And, after everything that happened on the pier, I know they’d have both bent over backwards to watch Christopher if I asked them. But it’s important that Buck does it. For him, but also, selfishly, for me. I’m a little nervous about leaving Chris today, but if I know he’s with Buck I think I’ll feel just that little bit better about it. Buck literally went to hell and back to rescue my son. Who could ask for a higher level of devotion than that?

Buck walks slowly towards me. He still looks mad, but I think it’s at himself more than me.

“You want _me_ to watch Christopher?”

I shrug and glance at my son.

“It’s easy. He’s not very fast.”  
I expect a laugh for that one. But Buck barely registers my lame attempt at a joke.

“After everything that happened?”

I knew it. He’s blaming himself. I’d hoped I could get away with not having to say anything. Finding the words to express my feelings is never easy. I much prefer to let my actions speak for me. Unfortunately, Buck is a talker.

“A natural disaster happened, Buck,” I say softly.

“I lost him, Eddie.”

Buck’s expression turns desperate. The sadness there nearly breaks me, and my voice is softer, kinder, when I reply.

“You _saved_ him.”

I point across the room to Christopher, taking Buck’s gaze there with it.

“That’s how _he_ remembers it.”

We both watch Chris, immersed in the TV and completely oblivious to our conversation. I test the waters and tell Buck one of the real reasons I’m here, watching his face closely for a reaction.

“Now it’s his turn to do the same for you.”

Buck stares at Christopher a few seconds longer, then looks back at me. He can’t hold my gaze for long before he drops it, ashamed.

“I was...I was supposed to look out for him.”

“And what, and you think you failed? I’ve failed that kid more times than I care to count, and I’m his father.”

It shames me to admit it, and I hear my voice crack as I say it. But it’s true, and there’s no way Buck should be apologising for something he had no control over.

“But I love him enough to never stop trying.” I pause. Buck’s still looking away from me. “And I know you do too.”

That does it. He meets my eye again.

“Buck.”

I lock my eyes onto his, and clap my right hand onto his left shoulder. I search for his gaze, holding it with mine. I make sure he’s looking at me, really looking at me, before I say the words I’ve built up in my head. It’s the one phrase I know to be true above anything else, the one thing I can trust myself to say out loud without messing it up. My thumb grazes the warm, bare skin over Buck’s collarbone.

“There’s nobody in this world I trust with my son more than you.”

Not Carla. Not Abuela. Not my parents. Not anyone else at the 118. Not a doctor or a police officer, or anyone from my old unit. And, if I’m honest with myself and she were still alive, not even Shannon. Just Buck. Buck above anyone else.

Now I’ve said the words out loud, I can hear how intimate they sound. I register how close we’re standing, my thumb still touching Buck’s skin. I can see emotions charging across his face like fast-moving clouds, and I can’t put a name to any of them. I force myself to pat his shoulder lightly, then let go and step away.

“OK, buddy,” I say to Christopher, making my way over to say goodbye. “Gotta go.” I help him to his feet to kiss him goodbye. “Love ya, have fun.”  
“Love you,” Christopher replies, sitting back down. I route march to the door so I won’t be tempted to detour via Buck again. He’s still staring at me, dazed, like he’s taken a blow to the head. Maybe the tsunami caused some brain damage that we’re not aware of?

“Maybe try going to the zoo this time, you know, something inland?” I say as I pass him. And I’m rewarded with a soft laugh that sends a warm glow through me, like the sun.

I’m about to close the door when, on impulse, I pause, grab the handle, and look back into the apartment.

“Oh, umm.”

I haven’t practised this part, so I’m freestyling, grasping for the right words. But Buck is looking at me again, so I make myself continue.

“Thank you. For not giving up.”

I hold his gaze for a beat longer, wishing I could put words to all the emotions swirling around in my chest. But I have to hope that what I’ve said is enough. I close the door softly behind me, and leave a piece of my heart behind in that apartment.

**Buck’s POV**

It’s a good job Eddie wasn’t waiting on me for a reply, because I’m not sure I’m capable of forming words right now. I give a half-nod at the closed door instead, jaw slack, and blink a few times. My head tilts towards the ceiling, gawping into space. How did Eddie, who always claims he’s bad with words, get so good at this? How did he know exactly the right thing to say to anchor me, to bring me back to myself?

My heart flutters in my chest with a feeling I haven’t had for a while. I can’t put it into words, but I know it’s the reason why a proper smile breaks across my face, the first since I knew Christopher was safe. Eddie isn’t mad at me for losing Chris. He doesn’t blame me for what happened. Eddie _trusts_ me. I feel fifty pounds lighter as I limp across the room to Chris.

“Hey Chris.”  
I sit down beside him, and he grins at me. I beam back at him, and a laugh escapes me. I lean towards him and ruffle his hair, feeling happier than I have in weeks.

“ _A few choice words can sometimes be the life raft that gets you home. To be seen. To be found. Isn’t that what we’re all searching for?”_


	12. You're Exhausting

**Eddie’s POV**

I’m wrecked. Christopher’s nightmares are keeping me awake, and I can’t help but feel like I’m letting him down. I’m not sure I’ll ever be enough to fill the role of two parents – just one is hard enough.

“Careful guys,” Hen says. “Hall monitor’s here.”

“Did you guys paint? Why’s the place look smaller?”

Oh good. Just what I need on sleep deprivation. Buck.

He’s on top obnoxious form today, strutting in with a report in hand and a big grin on his face. I’m not sure I’m ready to cope with him, but it sure is good to see him.

“Think your head just got bigger,” Chimney quips, quick as ever, and Hen snorts.

“So Fire Marshall Buck decided to drop off his report in person, is that a sign of maturity?” Bobby asks. “Or is it just revenge for all the times I’ve written you up?”

“Actually, uh, you passed.”

Buck’s written a report about us and we passed? This I have to see.

“Bumped up the numbers, got fancy with the math,” he says proudly.

“You don’t know math,” I challenge him with a grin, feeling my worries about Christopher fade just a little bit. Buck grins too.

“Which will be my excuse, if anyone calls me out on it.”

I skim the report over Bobby’s shoulder as Buck asks about the ambulance chaser from the fire drill. I’m only half-paying attention when I hear my name.

“Hey Diaz.”

Lena Bosko sits on a bench in the gym.

“Need a spot over here,” she says.

“Got you,” I reply. I tap Buck’s shoulder. “Hey, good to see you, man.” And I head over to the gym.

**Chimney’s POV**

“I’m sorry, is my crisis boring you?”

Eddie looks suitably ashamed, and explains about Christopher’s nightmares as we leave the locker room.

“Careful guys,” Hen says. “Hall monitor’s here.”

Did you guys paint? Why’s the place look smaller?”

Buck struts in, report in hand and a wide grin on his face.

“Think your head just got bigger,” I retort, and Hen snorts with laughter beside me.

“So Fire Marshall Buck decided to drop off his report in person, is that a sign of maturity?” Bobby asks. “Or is it just revenge for all the times I’ve written you up?”

“Actually, uh, you passed.”

Eddie moves to read the report as Buck continues.

“Bumped up the numbers, got fancy with the Math.”

“You don’t know Math,” Eddie challenges him with a grin. I think it’s the first time I’ve seen him smile all week, and Buck lights up under his attention.

“Which will be my excuse, if anyone calls me out on it,” he laughs.

Buck asks about the ambulance chaser from the fire drill, and for a moment it feels a little like we’re all back to normal. Then a voice calls Eddie’s name.

“Hey Diaz.”

Lena Bosko sits watching us from a bench in the gym.

“Need a spot over here,” she says. They seem to have bonded since the tsunami, and with Buck not around Eddie’s been spending more time with her lately.

“Got you,” Eddie replies. He taps Buck’s shoulder, says, “Hey, good to see you, man,” and heads to the gym. I can see Buck double take.

“Uh, who’s that?” he asks.

Hen and I exchange glances behind Buck’s back. Do either of us want this awkward conversation about the kickass female firefighter who’s currently taken Buck’s spot next to Eddie: on the truck, in the gym, at mealtimes? We decide, without having to say anything, that we really don’t, and slope away, leaving it to Bobby.

“Her name is Lena Bosko,” Cap explains. “Her station was smack in the middle of the impact zone, her crew was temporarily reassigned, so I brought her over here.”

“You replaced me?”

“Ooh, that’s gotta hurt,” I mutter to Hen.

“What, the fact that Bobby’s replaced him or that Eddie’s replaced him?” she whispers.

*

**Eddie’s POV**

I already feel guilty about the fact that Christopher needs a counsellor at all, so I may as well make the most of it.

“Has he talked about the tsunami at all? I’m still not sure what he saw that day.”

“We’re getting there. Christopher talked about being at the pier with Buck, how they played games.”

“That part isn’t the reason why he’s waking up every night screaming,” I say. Sleep deprivation has shortened my patience. Buck protected Chris, whatever happened when he was with Buck won’t be the reason he keeps having these dreams.

“His subconscious is still processing the trauma. He’s working his way through it. I know it’s hard, you love your son, you want to fix this. But it’ll take some time.”

“Just wish he’d talk to me about it,” I admit. I don’t like feeling like there’s a part of Chris closed off to me, that he’s deliberately walled himself off to me. And the counsellor is right, I want to fix him, make it all better. If I could undo the pain of what he saw and take it on myself, I would.

“Maybe he’s trying to communicate in other ways,” the counsellor says, opening the folder in his hands to show a series of drawings. I can see the ferris wheel, the fire truck, and the word ‘help’, repeated over and over. In every picture, there’s a woman with long brown hair calling for help as she drowns.

“A drowning woman,” I murmur, almost to myself.

“Yes, he does seem fixated on her,” the counsellor says.

“Lot of people died in that tsunami,” I tell him. “I know Buck tried to shield Chris from most of it...”

Buck told me, when Chris wasn’t around, how he sat him on the edge of the fire truck, with his back to the water, and played I-Spy to distract Chris from the corpses floating past them.

“I’m sure your friend did the best he could,” the counsellor says.

“They were separated a long time,” I say brusquely, “Who knows what else he saw? Or who this drowning woman was?”

I want to say it before the counsellor can. Because I trust Buck above anyone else, and if he criticises him and how he looked after Christopher, what does that say about my instincts as a father?

“Just keep loving him,” the counsellor says. Finally something I feel confident I can manage.

*

**Buck’s POV**

I tried desk duties. I really did try to suck it up and bide my time. But I’ve never good at being patient, and when I learn that it’s Bobby keeping me from coming back to the team, something inside me snaps.

I will live to regret what I do next, but in the heat of the moment, wounded and rejected, I lash out with the only option I think I have left to me. Maybe suing the city, and Bobby, will show them how serious I am about coming back, force their hand and let me return to the only place where I’ve ever felt like I belonged or mattered.

My lawyer lays down the ground rules.

“You should also be aware that during this process, it’s best to have no contact with anyone from or tangentially connected to your station house. That means no texts, no calls, nothing that can compromise our case.”

I think about it for a moment. I don’t think about it for long enough. But, in the moment, it feels like a defiance, like the cry for help I don’t know how to make any other way.

“I’m not sure we have much to say to each other right now anyway. I’m alone in this fight.”

*

**Eddie’s POV**

A lawsuit. Buck actually filed a lawsuit against Bobby, against the department and the city.

I haven’t got the words. So I take it out on a punch bag at the gym at the fire house instead. I hit it until my hands are numb and my arms ache. And it still doesn’t dampen the pain and the anger.

By the day of the arbitration hearing, I think my jaw has locked into place.

We all go in for questioning in our turn. When it’s mine, Buck looks like a school boy hauled in front of the principal. He stares miserably at the table in between us. I silently dare him to look up and meet my burning gaze.

“But you were a field medic?”

“Doesn’t qualify me to comment on Buck’s medical status,” I say, glancing over at Buck briefly. Just looking at him ratchets up the anger boiling below the surface. I gesture at him. “Does make me understand the chain of command,” I say pointedly. “And if Cap says he’s not ready, he’s not ready.”

“Were you ready, Firefighter Diaz?” the lawyer asks. “To return to work after your wife’s death?”

Buck’s struck a low blow with that one. If I hadn’t schooled my expression into neutral before I walked through the door, they would see the shock reverberating through my system now at the way Buck has dragged my personal life into his issues.

“That’s my business.”

“It’s also your captain’s business. He never suggested you take some time? See a counsellor?”

“He wasn’t there at the time,” I admit.

“Because he’d been suspended.”

The lawyer discloses that Bobby had a drinking problem. That Buck and Hen found him drunk in his apartment one day.

“That was before I got here,” I say quietly. So it’s not just me who’s had their personal life aired for this lawyer, this stranger, to use against us. Buck’s really done a number on all of us here.

We leave the hearing in silence. There’s tension between all of us now, as well as with Buck. It doesn’t help that we can hear Buck’s lawyer congratulating him on a successful hearing, shaking his hand and telling him he’ll be in touch. As if it doesn’t matter that he’s just set a bomb off amongst the closest thing I’ve ever known to a family unit.

Chim presses the lift door as Buck approaches, and I’m grateful. As the doors slide close, he is all I see. And the rage I’m feeling tightens my whole body.

*

**Buck’s POV**   
  


I can’t believe he used all the things I told him. I never meant for the things I said to be used as weapons against my team. All I want to do is get back to them. But I saw the cold fury in their faces as I sat opposite them. They’ll understand once I explain it, won’t they? It’ll all be worth it once I get my job back...won’t it?

*

**Eddie’s POV**   
  


Dylan’s birthday party will be a good distraction for Christopher. I’m still not sure about him sleeping over tonight, but I keep telling myself the doctor has signed off on it, and that I need to let him go at some point.

I pull up into a handicapped spot outside Party Playroom and unload the bags, then Christopher.

“OK bud. Let’s go.” I lift him out of the truck and help him stand, without his crutches. “Alright, strong legs. Are you sure about this? I can have Carla pick you up after the party?”

“No Dad, I wanna go,” Christopher insists. Because of course he does.

“Hey guys, you made it!” Dylan’s mom has appeared. “Dylan is so excited. Maybe now he’ll stop talking about it. Wait, who am I kidding, I know he won’t.”

“You got my emails, right?” I ask, too distracted to focus on small talk.  
“I did, very detailed,” she says, with a reassuring look that brings me some comfort.

“Alright, be good, have fun, call me if you need anything, OK?”

“OK Dad, love you.”

“Love you too, kid.”

I kiss his head and he motors away on his crutches.

“He’s going to be OK, Eddie.”

“I know. He hasn’t had a nightmare in a week, doctor says a sleepover will be great for him. Not sure how good it’s gonna be for me.”

It’s not very often that I get the night alone without Chris. What am I going to do?

“Listen, don’t worry. Dylan’s got this whole camping situation set up in the back yard, and Ron will be in the tent next to them. OK, we’ll call you if there’s any problems. Go, relax, recharge. I will return him to you in one piece tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Tasha,” I say, and give her a hug in gratitude.

I’m just back to my truck when a voice calls out to me.

“Hey, that’s a handicapped spot.”

“I know,” I answer shortly, without looking up.

“Oh you know? Oh that’s rich. I had knee surgery and had to park three rows in, but uh, look at you, must be nice ruling the world.”

Oh great. One of those self-righteous jackasses that thinks he’s entitled to everything. Deep breaths.

“Look, I’m not doing this with you, man. My kid has CP, and I just dropped him off.”

“Yeah I’m sure. Like those guys that put dummies in their passenger seats so they can use the carpool lane?

Bang. The truck door slams closed, and I stride up to this jerk before I realise what I’m doing.

“Did you just insult my kid?”  
“I ain’t insulting anybody. I’m calling you out. You got something to say about that?”

And that’s it. I snap.

_Two hours later_

“Thanks for coming to bail me out.”

“I was surprised to get your call. I didn’t realise we’d reached the ‘bail each other out of jail’ stage of our friendship,” Lena says.

“There was no way I was going to call my abuela or the 118 and I’m not _allowed_ to talk to Buck.”

There’s a pang in my chest when I say Buck’s name. I’m still mad as hell at him, but the one person who I would normally go to, for anything, would be Buck. He would have had me out of jail within the hour, laughed at me in the process, and maybe even managed to make me feel less of an idiot than I do right now.

“Look, I’m alright with the bailing, but I’m a little concerned about the jailing part,” :Lena frowns.

“I just snapped.”

“You punched a handicapped guy!”

“He wasn’t handicapped, he had a bad...he had a bad knee. It won’t happen again. Lesson learned.”

“I hope so,” she retorts. “I also hope this guy doesn’t have a lawyer.”

**Lena’s POV**

Diaz is so tightly wound I’m not surprised he blew up. I’m just surprised how little it took. And he’s so anxious about his son that he’s constantly checking his phone. Or maybe he’s hoping that Buck might text.

“He’s not gonna text, he’s having the time of his life. You, on the other hand, are so amped you can’t see straight.”

“Fake fight club? This is your idea of helping me?”

He needs a fight, or he needs to get laid. I ain’t about to help him out with the second one, so maybe the first one will be enough.

“You’re a powder keg. You beat up a guy over a parking space. Thought a place like this could be a healthy outlet for your issues.”

“What are you my therapist now?” he asks, shooting an amused look at me.

“Just the chick who bailed you out of jail,” I retort. As his first choice wasn’t available, that is. Eddie scowls.

“I thought we weren't talking about that.”

“Bosko!” someone shouts. That’s my cue. As I stand up and shrug off my jacket, Diaz looks at me in disbelief.

“Wait, wait, you’re fighting?”

“You’re not the only one with stuff to work out. Hold my beer.”

*

**Buck’s POV**

I know what day Bobby does the grocery run, and I know he likes to shop at Howie’s Market. So what if I happen to be a little across town from where I live? No harm in going to a different store once in a while. I pitch up in the parking lot, and see the ladder truck and the ambulance already there. Turns out my hunch was right.

**Lena’s POV**

“What do you mean, he just dropped the charges?” I ask, as we examine the meat in the deli counter. I thought for sure the handicapped guy was going to push for prosecution.

“You make it sound like you’re disappointed,” Eddie mutters.

“Just surprised,” I say, and then remember to add, “pleasantly.”

Eddie walks on with the trolley and the list.

“Apparently that wasn’t that guy’s first illegal fight, and that weighed that against my service record...”

“Captain America wins a ‘Get Out of Jail Free’ card?” I quip. He pulls a face at the name.

“Anyway, that jackass’s knee surgery was three years ago.”

I can see he’s still fired up. All he needs is a spark to light the fuse, and he’s going to blow up. And, about five minutes later, the spark ignites.

**Hen’s POV**

“I just think Bobby needs to let go of being pissed off at Buck,” I say, as we navigate the aisles looking for our items on the list.

“I know that. And so does Bobby,” Chim says, leaning on the trolley as he pushes it behind me.

“How d’you figure?” I ask.

“What do you think this whole shopping trip is all about?”

I’ve stopped listening. Because I’ve seen a familiar, lanky figure loitering down the end of the next aisle.

“Buck.”

“Exactly. It’s just a distraction...”

“No, no, Buck.”

Sure enough, our disgraced former colleague is heading this way.

“Whoa. Hey you guys, what’s up?” Buck says, doing a terrible job of pretending that he ran into us entirely by accident.

Bobby pulls up with his trolley.

“What are you doing here?” he asks shortly. So much for letting go of being pissed off at Buck then. I glance back over my shoulder at him, in time to see Eddie approaching with his trolley too. Oh no.

“Me?” Buck says. “I’m just here to do some shopping.”

“Eight miles from your apartment?” Chimney asks. Good Math.

“Yeah, well this is the only place that sells...” Buck inspects the box he’s picked randomly off the shelves. “Happy Cat Laxative Powder.”

“You’re buying cat laxative?” I ask.

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking of getting a cat.”

“And you’re anticipating your new cat will be...irregular?” Chim says.

Buck stalls, trying to think of a way around this. Realising there’s literally no way out, he opts for the truth.

“Um...OK listen, I came here to apologise.”

That’s gets everyone’s attention.

**Eddie’s POV**

“OK, I never meant for things to get so out of hand with the lawsuit, and...”

“Oh yeah? What did you think was going to happen?”

This is the first time I’ve come face to face with Buck since the court hearing. I don’t care if it’s against the rules to have contact. He started this, and now he’s here, I’m going to make damn sure he knows just what kind of wrecking ball he’s sent through our lives with this dumbass move.

“The lawsuit’s bad enough, but you told your lawyer everything about us, personal things.”

The tension that’s coiled its way through my entire body is clamping down on every muscle. My hands clench around the trolley bar, and my jaw works around every word.

“Well, you’re supposed to be truthful with your lawyer,” Buck says. How naive. He doesn’t have a clue. Then he frowns at me, and I see irritation in his eyes too.

“Why are _you_ so pissed at me?”

Because you left me and Christopher behind. You made everything about you. You made it so that we weren’t allowed to see you, to talk to you. You weren’t there when Christopher needed you. When _I_ needed you.

I don’t say any of this.

“Because you’re exhausting!”

The words fly out before I can even think about them, and suddenly I’m moving too, walking towards Buck with narrowed eyes. I’ve forgotten that we’re in a supermarket surrounded by members of the public, that we’re blocking most of an aisle with our trolleys. Rage is surging through me, and there’s no telling what I might say next.

**Chimney’s POV**

“We all have our own problems, but you don’t see us whining about it,” Eddie snaps at Buck. “You know, somehow we just manage to suck it up. Why can’t you?”

One car rear-ends another in the parking lot as he says it, almost to emphasise Eddie’s words. A muscle jumps in Buck’s jaw, and I can see the hurt in his eyes, even if Eddie chooses not to. So I find myself standing up for Buck instead.

“That’s kinda harsh, not like the guy asked to be crushed by a ladder truck.”

“No, but he filed a stupid lawsuit, and now I can’t even talk to you because of it.”

Now I can see the hurt in Eddie’s eyes.

“Do you know how much Christopher misses you?”

Buck’s face falls.

“How could you, you’re not around?”

**Buck’s POV**

“I, I didn’t realise that,” I stammer, feeling awful. How could I have known that Christopher would want or need me? I’ve never felt like anyone needed me. That’s why I’ve always poured so much of myself into every relationship that ever mattered to me, trying to make myself indispensable to the people I loved. And yet I always seem to be the one left behind.

“Maybe I could come visit Christopher, the lawsuit doesn’t prevent that,” I suggest, hating that I’m pleading with Eddie.

“No, it prevents me from reaching out to you,” he shouts. “I couldn’t even call you to come bail me out of jail!”

_What?_

Eddie’s face falls slack when he realises what he’s just said. Bobby’s eyebrows go sky high – has he been taking lessons from Athena? And Lena Bosko is hiding her expression – badly – behind her hand. She knows. She knows what I know. That Eddie did end up in jail. I just don’t know why.

“If that was something that happened,” Eddie says lamely, trying to cover himself. But he doesn’t fool me.

**Eddie’s POV**

I slipped up there. I’m not sure how well I covered myself either. But I don’t think Buck noticed, if what he says next is anything to go by.

“What, what are you talking about? Look man, why can’t you see my side of this?”

And that’s just it. It always has to be about Buck. And that sentence is the trigger to set off the loaded gun. The spark on dry tinder.

“Because that’s all you see!” I shout, lunging forward into his space, pointing directly at his face. And the urge to punch him, to knock some sense into him, nearly overwhelms me. But just as I move, there’s a smashing sound from the parking lot, as those same two cars ram into each other again.

**Hen’s POV**

I really thought Eddie was going to swing for Buck there. The anger that flashed through his eyes, the tension that crackled in the air between them...it became an argument about the two of them and their relationship, not about Buck suing the 118. Eddie, for all his bravado, for saying that Buck should just suck up every punch and body blow that comes his way, is hurting. I can see it in his eyes when he looks at Buck. His best friend wasn’t there for him when he needed him. But I know Buck will be feeling the same way. Rather than either of them telling each other how they feel, they just expected the other one to magically know?

Out in the car park, the two drivers are becoming more and more heated, ramming their cars back and forth into each other like some kind of Nascar race.

“Someone should stop ’em,” I say to Chimney.

“These two or those two?” he says, pointing first to Buck and Eddie and then out into the parking lot. Fair point.

“Let’s go,” Bobby shouts.

*

**Buck’s POV**

I leave the grocery store feeling deflated, and further away from my team than I ever have. The look on Eddie’s face...I was sure he was going to swing for me for a moment. I had no idea he was so bent out of shape over this. And when he told me Christopher missed me...I never thought about it like that. And that, more than anything else, sends the guilt home. I did what I thought would bring me back to my team. But instead, I’ve pissed them all off, and not been there for Christopher when he needed me. And for that alone I feel like a terrible person.

I drop the lawsuit. I get my job back. But the victory rings a little hollow. But surely they’ll understand, once I’m back with them, that it was all worth it?

It gives me hope to hear from Bobby. I’m surprised to get his call – I thought he was too angry at me, that maybe I finally crossed a line. But he’s let me back. And it is a little awkward at the Rage Rooms, but Lena, of all people, welcomes me in. We suit up and smash breeze blocks with sledgehammers. And it feels so good. I didn’t realise how much frustration was building up inside me until I got the chance to let it out. I also warm to Lena, who smiles at me as she hands me the sledgehammer.

“Where’s Eddie?” I ask, when we finally lift our helmets off our heads for a breather.

“He said he had other plans,” she says. My heart sinks a little, but I promise myself that we will work this out. She must see the disappointment in my face, as she offers me a miniature bottle of bourbon from the minibar selection and I knock it back in one.

**Eddie’s POV**

After today I really needed to be alone. But I couldn’t hold the rage inside anymore. So I took myself back to the junkyard where Lena took me to Fake Fight Club. And I enter the ring. Everything that has been building up inside me the past few months – Shannon asking for a divorce, her death, Christopher’s nightmares, the fear and the guilt, Buck abandoning me when I really needed him. I use it to power my fists, to block out the kicks and blows that land, to keep fighting without mercy until they drag me away.


	13. Ghosted

**Buck’s POV**

First day back, and it feels like I’m a ghost, drifting around the station.

“Thanks Hen. For this and, for not feeling like you have to follow Bobby’s lead.”

“I march to the beat of my own drum, always have. You should too.”

As we leave the locker rooms, my eyes land on Eddie heading our way. My stomach lurches to see him again, and the first thing I notice is that he looks like hell. Not only are there shadows under his eyes, but his elbows are covered in livid bruises. His left elbow in particular looks vicious.

“Ooh, dude, you OK?” I ask. “That’s a monster.”

No response. He doesn’t smile, barely catches my eye. He looks at me like I’m a stranger.

“Just rough housing with my kid.”

“Were you playing with hammers?” I ask, still trying to draw a smile out of him.

“Nothing you need to be concerned with,” he says coldly. I frown after him as he looks away. How can he still be mad?

“Welcome back, Firefighter Buckley,” Chim says, bringing me back to reality.

“Thanks Chim, glad to be back.”

But as they all take off and leave me as the man at the station, I wonder how glad I really am to be back, but still on the outside.

**Chim’s POV**

“Think you can handle it?”

Bobby has assigned Buck a new, station-based torture. The Halloween candy stall.

“The teal bucket is for kids with food allergies. Everything in there is nut-free, dairy-free, egg-free, soy-free and gluten-free.”

“And who are these for?” Buck asks, holding up a smoke detector. “Kids allergic to fun?”

I keep my laugh bottled up, just.

“For the _parents_ ,” Bobby says, taking it out of Buck’s hand and putting it back on the table. “Also, there should be some pamphlets about basic fire safety that should be in the closet.”

“Exactly how long are you going to keep on punishing me?”

“You know Buck, one day you’re going to learn when to stop pushing, and learn some patience. I hope we’re both alive to see it.”

He leaves Buck to it, and I go over and offer some advice instead. Because I get it, and it sucks being left behind at the station all the time. But you get on with it, and eventually the tide turns.

“So basically, um, suck it up and be patient,” Buck says, once I’ve finished imparting wisdom. “Just like Bobby said.”

“You know, Cap’s not always wrong...” I tell him, but my eyes fall on those smoke detectors as I say it, and I offer up a correction. “Although he is about these smoke detectors, no one’s gonna want these today.”

“Yeah, well I am gonna hand them out anyway, Captain’s orders!” Buck mock salutes as he does it.

“See, you can be taught.”

“In fact, I’m gonna go find those pamphlets!” he says with mock enthusiasm.

Buck’s just gotta take it in his stride. Bobby will take pity on him eventually. Though Eddie might take a bit longer to come around.

Then the crow comes back and Buck’s crisis is replaced with my own.

“OK, are you a good omen or a bad omen? Because I googled you, and the old wives are kind of divided on the subject.”

**Buck’s POV**

“Mom look, the real firefighters are here!”

I wish there wasn’t a law against beating children. Especially obnoxious ones dressed like they’re already in jail. Though I’m sure it won’t be long before he ends up there, with that attitude.

“My gosh, is he trying to get more candy out of you?” his mom asks, putting her hands on her son’s shoulders as she stops next to him. Maybe she doesn’t know what a little brat he is.

“Err no, no, he’s fine.”

I see my team coming through the doors and decide to show them some personal growth.

“In fact, here, why don’t you take a smoke detector? Keep him safe until his parole hearing.”

I force a smile and resist the urge to pull a face at the kid.

“Nice work, Buckley. Keep it up,” Bobby calls approvingly. On a roll, I try to rebuild the most important bridge I’ve burned.

“Hey um, Eddie, do you wanna give me a hand with all this?”

He slows, takes in the stall and then me. His expression is still cold and blank.

“Nah, you got this, you’re a hundred per cent, lawsuit proved that right?”

And he strides off through the crowd of children.

**Eddie’s POV**

After wanting Buck back at the station with us for so long, it’s actually harder having him here every day. Even though Bobby has consigned him to station duty for the past week or so, his presence is so bright and irrepressible that he fills the whole room. I can’t block him out, though believe me I’ve tried. And I don’t know what I want to say to him anymore. The anger is still there, but after that day at the grocery store I diverted it into fighting. I channel all my rage into my feet and fists, which helps me vent and helps me sleep. I feel I deserve the bruises, the cuts and the aches I’m given during the fights. They’re a welcome penance for not being enough for anybody. My wife, my son, my best friend. But it leaves a hollow feeling behind. Like the anger filled up so much of my body and mind that I’m empty without it.

**Buck’s POV**

I’m boxing up the Halloween decorations when I next see Eddie. He’s buttoning up his shirt, giving me another shot of that livid bruise on his elbow. He sees me and drops his gaze, sidestepping me without a word.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be now?”

I didn’t intend to go on the offensive, but I can’t take the silent treatment anymore. I really am trying. I listened to Chimney’s advice, and I put my head down and worked. I signed every form the city threw at me, I waived my right to just about anything, so I could be back here with my team. I have fought to be here with them, with my best friend. And now he’s going to act like none of that matters, like we’re strangers to each other?

I set the box down on the ping pong table and turn back towards Eddie, who has slowed but not stopped.

“You just gonna keep on ghosting me? Because Halloween is over, just so you know.”

Slowly, Eddie turns to face me.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Buck. Forgive, forget, make you feel better about what you did.”

“I just want you to talk to me,” I say desperately.

Eddie laughs softly, without any humour in it, and turns away again. I don’t give up.

“Even if it’s just to say that you’re still mad.”

He pivots back to me.

“I’m not mad. I’m...”

He puts a hand out, pointing at me, then lets it fall. I can see him drop one train of thought, abort the words that were on their way out and search for something else.

“When you decided to sue the department, make Cap the bad guy, did you ever stop for a minute to think what that could do to _us_?”

Us.

That sentence comes back to haunt me again and again after that conversation. Because I know that Eddie’s not talking about the 118 when he says ‘us’. Not really. He’s talking about me and him. _Us_.

“I just, I needed my job back.”

I’m moving now, striding towards him. I’m still reeling from that one word – _us_ – but I’m desperate to make him see, make him understand. I can’t lose him for good.

“I missed being here,” I say, gesturing to the firehouse around us. “Being part of the team.”

Eddie watches me, arms folded defensively across his chest, chin tucked in like he’s ready for a fight.

“I never meant for anyone to get hurt,” I say pleadingly. He has to believe that.

Eddie shakes his head.

“Lot of ‘I’s’ in there,” he says. I drop my head, feeling his disapproval like a physical blow. Eddie keeps talking. “Your actions, choices, they impact the rest of us. That’s what it means to be a part of a team.”

He is stern, and for a moment I can see him in Bobby’s position in a few years from now. He’d make a great Captain one day. Because it’s always about the team with him. He never puts himself first, in anything.

And I don’t know what to say to him. Standing here in front of Eddie, with blatant disapproval radiating from his eyes, I feel ashamed. I understand for the first time how much I’ve let my team down. But I can’t change the past. All I can do is explain my actions.

“You’re right. I didn’t think about what could happen. I was mad at Bobby for not letting me back. I was mad at you guys for moving on without me...”  
I was mad at _you_ for replacing me.

“...I was mad that there was nothing I could do about it and I, I just wanted to –”

“Punch someone?” Eddie interrupts. And when his eyes meet mine I know he finally understands.

“Yeah, a little,” I admit. His face has softened, just a little, and it gives me hope so I plough on with my apology.

“And I get it, and I really am...sorry. So whatever it takes for you to forgive me –”

“I forgive you.”

Eddie sighs it, shaking his head, eyes half-closed. But he said it. I stop, hardly daring to hear him.

“Also what it means to be part of a team,” he says. “Just…” he trails off, and I see him grappling for the right words. Then he points at me sternly, but with a hint of a smile. “Just don’t do it again.”

And a smile floods my face for the first time since I got back.

Eddie offers out his hand, and I slap my palm to his and pull him into me. My smile could split my face in two but I don’t care. I pour my apologies and my regrets into this hug, my relief and joy at his forgiveness, and my promise to do better.

Eddie tucks his head in against mine, and I breathe him in. For a few short seconds I feel whole again. Then I hear a grunt of pain and Eddie backs away, one hand gripping my arm to push me back. I see the grimace on his face and frown, confused. Did I hurt him? Did he not want to hug me? I thought he did, he leaned into me, I felt it. But before I can ask him what’s up...

“Buckley!”

Bobby calls me, and Eddie turns and strides away.

“Candy detail’s all wrapped up Cap, and, I gave away all the smoke detectors.”

“Listen Buck, I’ve been thinking.”

Uh-oh.

“Why don’t you go home?”

Not what I was expecting.

“Home? I still have a couple of hours left on my shift.”

“Well I don’t want to overtax you on your first week back.”

Overtax me? This wasn’t exactly a physically demanding shift. The biggest physical challenge was not leaping over the table and throttling that obnoxious kid.

“I stood behind a table and got bullied by children.”

“So you earned a couple of hours off. Good work today.”

**Eddie’s POV**

As I emerge from the locker room, buttoning up my shirt, Buck’s coming my way with a box of Halloween decorations. I drop my eyes and dodge around him without a word. I’m not sure I’m ready to speak to him just yet.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be now?”

Clearly Buck has other ideas.

“You just gonna keep on ghosting me? Because Halloween is over, just so you know.”

He never learns. This is all still a game to him. Does he even realise what he’s done? Slowly, I turn to face him, searching for the right words.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Buck. Forgive, forget, make you feel better about what you did.”

“I just want you to talk to me.”

I bark a laugh without any humour in it, and turn away. Buck could have talked to me as much as he wanted if he hadn’t brought a lawsuit down on our heads. He was the one who chose to stop talking, not me.

“Even if it’s just to say that you’re still mad,” Buck adds. I pivot back to him.

“I’m not mad. I’m...”

Hurt. Betrayed. Broken. Missing you. Lost without you.

All of these words line up, jostling to escape. I fight them all, push them all back inside and abort that sentence. I shake my head and say instead:

“When you decided to sue the department, make Cap the bad guy, did you ever stop for a minute to think what that could do to _us_?”

 _Us_. Well that was almost as bad as all the other words I abandoned. Because I sure as hell didn’t mean the 118 when I said us, and I’m fairly sure Buck knows that too. I meant him, and me, and Christopher. But he lets it go and strides towards me, his eyes desperate.

“I just, I needed my job back. I missed being here,” he gestures to the firehouse around us. “Being part of the team.”

I’ve folded my arms defensively across my chest, chin tucked in. I’ve curled in on myself, not trusting myself not to say something stupid.

“I never meant for anyone to get hurt,” Buck says pleadingly. Once again, it’s all about him. How he felt, how he acted, what he did or didn’t do. I shake my head.

“Lot of ‘I’s’ in there,” I tell him. Buck drops his head. “Your actions, choices, they impact the rest of us. That’s what it means to be a part of a team.”

I have always understood the chain of command. It comes from being a soldier. Discipline, teamwork, is second nature. We’re not out there glory hunting, trying to win medals and approval from others. We work together for a common cause, and Buck doesn’t get that. He is desperate for validation, to belong and to feel valuable. And that’s not a crime. But it’s not compatible with being part of a team. Especially a team that has to depend on one another, who have to be there for each other in life and death situations.

Buck looks suitably ashamed now.

“You’re right,” he say quietly. “I didn’t think about what could happen. I was mad at Bobby for not letting me back. I was mad at you guys for moving on without me, I was mad that there was nothing I could do about it and I, I just wanted to –”

“Punch someone?” I interrupt, as my eyes flick up to meet his. Because I get it. Finally, I think I understand.

“Yeah, a little,” Buck admits. “And I get it, and I really am...sorry.”

I know he is. I can see it in his eyes, see it etched across his face. And my heart is begging me to forgive him, to fix this and make things right between us again. Because being without Buck is like a constant ache, like a bruise from one of my fights. And I’m tired of hurting.

“So whatever it takes for you to forgive me –”

“I forgive you,” I sigh, shaking my head as my heart wins out. My eyes slip half-closed. How many times did I say that to Shannon? But how many times did I mean it like I do now?

“Also what it means to be part of a team,” I remind him sternly. “Just…”

Please don’t hurt me again. Please don’t leave me again.

Abort, abort.

I point at him, trying to keep the stern expression in place and failing. “Just don’t do it again.”

A smile lights up Buck’s face with genuine delight. And I already feel better. Because I caused that. I made him happy again. With just three words, I fixed this. I can’t fix Christopher’s nightmares. I can’t fix the hole Shannon left in our lives. I can’t be two parents to my boy. I can’t fix my anger issues. But I can fix Buck, at least for now. And that has to count for something.

Slowly, I offer my hand. Bucks slaps his palm to mine and pulls me into a tight hug. For a few seconds, I sink into him, relax my head against his shoulder and smile.

But Buck’s grip is ironclad, and he squeezes the bruises under my shirt, across my ribs. I grunt in pain and back up, one hand gripping his arm to propel me away from him. I see a flash of hurt and confusion on Buck’s face, but before he can ask me what’s wrong, I hear Bobby calling.

“Buckley!”

So I turn and stride away, quickly. Because I’m not ready for Buck to probe into my life and find out about the fights. Because I’ve let him back in, but trust is fragile and takes time to rebuild. And there’s only so much my heart can handle in one day.


	14. Out of Control

**Eddie’s POV**

This is a bloodbath on ice.

We’re scouring the ice for severed fingers while Chim and Hen try to extract a skate from Hansel’s chest. Just another regular day at work. However, it does give us the chance to wear our fleeces. Texas might be the hottest place I’ve ever lived, but LA is close behind. Winters here aren’t exactly snowy or icy, and I thought my pristine fleece jacket would be destined to remain in its packaging until today.

Discovery of the day: Buck is tragically uncoordinated on the ice. Those ridiculously long legs slip and slide in opposite directions, sending him tumbling to the ground again and again. Undeterred, he presses on in his search for the missing digits.

“Found two fingers, Cap. Still looking for the other ones,” Buck reports. He’s resorted to kneeling now, which is much safer than trying to stand.

“Hey, got the pinky!” I shout, finding one under the snowy felt. It’s maybe a little over-enthusiastic considering, but it’s strangely satisfying.

“Yes! I got the middle one!” Buck shouts triumphantly, as we locate and box the final finger.

Bobby is still kneeling on the ice with his torch out.

“Ah! Found it,” he says, picking something off the ice and slowly getting to his feet.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“A sequin. When your blade runs across one of these, it stops your skates dead in your tracks.”

“One sequin did all of this?” Buck asks incredulously, clutching the ice box containing the fingers. I glance back at him, then at Bobby.

“A wardrobe malfunction can be the most dangerous part of figure skating,” he tells us wisely.

“So how come you know so much about figure skating?” Chim asks.

Bobby sighs, looking a little sheepish.

“My partner Heidi Shotski and I were Twin Cities Junior Pairs Champions three years running,” he explains.

“Always thought you were a hockey player, Cap,” I say, to break the stunned silence.

“Who says you can’t do both?”

And he walks through all of us as we gawp after him.

“We’ll Google for photos later,” Buck says eventually. Chim nods and points at him without looking back as he heads for the edge of the rink. Buck moves to follow him, slips once again, and regains his balance with only a shred of dignity still intact. I roll my eyes and shake my head at his back in exasperation as Hen and I follow. How can someone who is good at every physical activity out there, who likes, watches or plays pretty much every sport known to man, turn into Bambi on ice?

**Hen’s POV**

I see the fond smile hiding under Eddie’s eye rolling and exasperation. And I noticed his hands twitch, ready to catch Buck if he face planted the ice again. He’s glad to have him back, even if he won’t admit it.

*

**Buck’s POV**

I have prepared the best joke that’s ever been seen inside this firehouse. When I open the boot of the Jeep and see it wrapped in brown paper, I can’t help but smile to myself. I’m fishing it out when a car horn beeps behind me. I glance back over my shoulder, at one of the biggest trucks I’ve ever seen rolling into the car park. A GMC Denali. And Eddie’s at the wheel. Was there something wrong with his last truck?

“Whoo, nice truck!” I call as he gets out. “Is it a rental?”

“Nope, all mine.”

“I didn’t know you were getting a new ride,” I said. Was this something else I missed during the lawsuit mess?

“Yeah, well, the AC crapped out on the old one, again. Christopher and I were were sitting in traffic, sweating in traffic. Saw this dealership, thought ‘why not?’”

“A total impulse buy,” I say, frowning still. I point at Eddie as we turn to go inside. “Not like you at all.”

**Eddie’s POV**

“Maybe it should be,” I say. I’m sick of being Steady Eddie, always reliable, always predictable. Maybe I want to shake things up a little.

“Well I’ll remind you of that the next time you’re begging for extra shifts to cover the payments,” Buck says. I decide not to tell him that I was able to cover the payments pretty much straight out, thanks to the extra money from my fights. So I scramble to change the subject.

“What’s this?” I ask, pointing to the flat object wrapped in brown paper that Buck lifted from the trunk of his Jeep.

“This?” he says, grinning. “This is epic.” He glances sideways at me. “I found Heidi Shotski.” And he races into the station with me on his heels.

**Buck’s POV**

We barely make it through Bobby’s announcements before breaking out my surprise: a cardboard cut-out of Bobby Nash Jnr. With a blue, sequin-encrusted shirt and a mullet that should have been outlawed in 1989.

Eddie unveils him with gameshow noises, and I start striking poses next to the cut-out as Chim snaps some photos of Bobby.

“Captain Robert Nash, this is your life!” he shouts, and I make some sound effects for flares in the background.

“Oh my God, where did you get that?”

“Heidi says _hi_ ,” I tell him. “She’s going to email you later, she didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“I think we all had a little surprise this morning,” Chim adds. “Not sure what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t... _that hair_!”

“Yeah, Cap, what is this look, is this some kind of Travolta theme?” Eddie asks.

“Not Travolta. Bowie.”

We all stare at the cut-out, trying to find any resemblance to David Bowie.

“Come on...Ziggy Stardust?” Bobby prompts.

“This feels a little more...Siegfried and Roy!” Chim says, as Hen walks into the loft.

“Sorry I’m late, I had to drop Denny to school and...what did I miss?” she asks, clocking Bobby Jnr. Bobby Snr. grins.

“OK, for everyone who isn’t _fired_ ,” he looks at me, Chim and Eddie, “I will not be cooking today, we’re having a special guest chef at lunch.”

**Eddie’s POV**

Athena is in the middle of telling us about her brisket recipe when she trails off abruptly.

“You just smoke it low and slow for fourteen hours, and then you turn it –”

She clocks Buck, sat directly across from her and next to me, with the salt shaker in hand. He gets the patented Athena Grant Eyebrow, and I nearly choke on my water. Buck glances sideways at Bobby, who shakes his head minutely. Buck lowers the salt shaker slowly back to the table, and Athena rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

**Buck’s POV**

I was just trying to add a bit of seasoning to the brisket. The look Athena gave me you’d think I’d spat in it!

**Eddie’s POV**

As Bobby praises her cooking during suspension, I decide to try and take the heat off Buck.

“Have you ever considered being suspended forever?” I ask. Then I clock Bobby’s face, and backtrack. “Not that your cooking isn’t good, Cap.”

“Well I like both your food equally,” says Buck loyally, trying to suck up to both of them. I eyeball him with a smile playing on my lips, and roll my eyes.

*

**Buck’s POV**

It seems to be my turn to host Maddie and Chimney’s date night. I strap myself in for a night of hand-holding and third wheeling with a sigh and a silent thanks for wine. Chim is worrying about Hen – she seems a bit distracted lately.

“I really wish I could help her, but she’s not talking to me about it. Not sure she’s talking to anybody.”

That sounds familiar.

“There’s definitely something going on with her. Eddie too. Hey you guys think it’s the Santa Anas? They make people act weird, right?”

“I definitely don’t think it’s the wind,” Maddie laughs. “Maybe it’s something personal she didn’t feel like sharing.”

“Historically speaking, Hen and I tell each other everything,” Chimney says.

Uh-oh.

I mean, I know that. I always remind myself before I tell Hen or Chimney anything, that whatever I say will get back to the other one. It’s just how we work. Hen and Chimney, me and Eddie, our working partnerships are so good because we’re best friends. I’ve seen Hen and Chimney work together, it’s like they read each other’s minds sometimes. And for the first time in my life, I have a work partner in Eddie, the other half of me. I know exactly what he’s thinking, I know that he will trust me and whatever crazy ideas I come up with, mostly without judgement, and I trust him with my life.

But Maddie doesn’t get that. Her job is different, because even though they’re first responders in their own way, dispatch are used to riding solo. And she doesn’t like the idea of her privacy being invaded by anyone. So I try really hard not to overhear the rest of her conversation with Chim, but it’s kind of hard, especially when they mention me.

“You tell her, she tells Buck...I mean, maybe everything doesn’t need to be shared with the 118?” Maddie says.

“No way,” I interrupt, trying to break the tension. “If we didn’t tell each other everything, what else would we do on a 24 hour shift?”

Then, after Maddie confesses that she’s back in therapy, that she’s been stalking a woman who called 9-1-1, and after she warns us about sharing and not overstepping boundaries, Chim turns to me.

“So what do you think’s going on with Eddie?”

I wish I knew.

*

**Lena’s POV**

Eddie’s gone too far with this fighting now. I thought it could be a healthy outlet for him, a way to let off steam without anyone getting hurt or doing anything illegal. Looks like I was wrong on both counts.

I’d hoped to slip out of their station before he gets in, but of course, just as I descend the stairs from my talk with Captain Nash, Eddie comes in.

“What are you doing here?”

“I just talked to your captain.”

“Did you tell him? Sold me out, huh?”

Wow, he really doesn’t know me at all.

“I thought we were friends.”

Oh, he’s going to pull that card on me, is he? No way.

“What’s the name of my cat?” I ask, stalking back across the floor of the fire house to him. “I know about your kid, and your dead wife, and your arrest record, and the guy you almost killed, so tell me, what’s the name of my cat?”

“I have no frigging idea,” he says.

Eddie accused Buck of being too selfish. But he’s no better. He missed Buck because Buck was there for him to vent, without judgement, always eager to help and make it better. How much did he ever give Buck in return? Because he’s certainly never given me anything back beyond grudging thank yous. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked his captain to go easy on him. Because if it were me in his situation, I’m not sure Eddie would have sought out Coop to do the same for me.

“Exactly. It’s a one-way street with you, Diaz. We’re not friends.”

I start walking away.

“And for the record, I don’t have a cat,” I shout back over my shoulder.

**Eddie’s POV**

Lena didn’t sell me out. I sigh and close my eyes as I realise just how rough I was on her. I jumped to the wrong conclusion flat out, without even stopping to ask for her side of things. What a jackass.

“It’s nothing. I’m fine. Just needed a place to let off some steam. Things got a little out of –”

“Control? That’s what this is about, right?” Bobby says.

I was going to say ‘out of hand’, but I guess his version will do.

“You’re the guy who always keeps it together no matter what life throws at you. Shake it off, keep moving forward.” His face isn’t angry, it’s understanding, and that feels almost worse than if he’d shouted at me.

“Lots of people have it worse,” I say dismissively. Because that’s how I’ve been taught. It’s why I got so mad at Buck, because he didn’t get that. Because he doesn’t think the way I do.

“Eddie, I just want to make sure you don’t think you have to lose everything before you can allow yourself to feel something,” Bobby says.

I shake my head as my throat constricts with his kindness. It’s not that simple.

“No, Christopher needs me to be in control. I’m the only parent he’s got left, and I can’t let him down again.”

“When did you let him down before?”

I laugh bitterly.

“When did I _not_ let him down?”

I was telling the truth when I told Buck I’ve let Christopher down more times than I care to count.

“I wasn’t there when he was a baby. Stayed away too long, and I broke his mother. Shannon ran away, and I couldn’t stop her, couldn’t bring her back home, so I brought him here. And let her back into his life.”

“That’s what Christopher wanted,” Bobby says.

I laughed again, pointing, not at Bobby, but something neither of us can see.

“Yeah, but I knew better. She’d already left once, broke his heart.” I shake my head. “And I was so afraid she was going to do it again...” I smile without humour at the irony of it all. “She did.”

“She died, Eddie.”

“Yeah, after she told me she wanted...a divorce.”

I’ve never told anyone this. Not abuela or Carla. Not even Buck. I see the sympathy on Bobby’s face and I have to look away because I can’t feel like I’m someone to be pitied. The tears are choking me now, but I force myself to keep talking through them.

“And I’m...still mad. How stupid is that? I’m angry at a dead person, and myself, because I forgave her...for everything, and it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.”

The tears are spilling over now, and there’s nothing I can do to stop them. I’ve never cried in front of the others before. Not even when Shannon died. I went down to the beach by myself and cried as the sun went down.

Bobby is great. He puts a hand on my arm and allows me to cry, then sends me to the bathroom to clean up. He tells me that they can avoid disciplinary action by sending me to counselling. It’s not optional. A note will be made on my record, but compassionate circumstances should avoid any more formal disciplinary action. He also makes me promise to give up fighting. And I find, after crying it out, that some of the anger has drained away with the tears.

The shift settles me. I feel calmer, more myself. I’m reeling from being so open and vulnerable with Bobby, but I tell myself that it’s for the best.

**Buck’s POV**   
  


Eddie seems calmer. I thought his eyes looked a little red when I got in for work, and he’s been quiet all shift, but he seems more himself, less tightly wound. I’ve seen Bobby keeping a close eye on him, and hope that maybe they’ve had a chance to talk and get to the bottom of whatever it is that’s been bothering Eddie lately.

Hen and Chimney have gone on ahead with Jerome to the hospital, and we’re just packing up the truck when Chimney’s voice crackles over the airwaves.

“Dispatch, this is ambulance 118, we have hit a civilian vehicle at the intersection of West Olympic and Main.”

Eddie and I stop and stare at each other. Chimney’s voice is urgent, and I can tell he’s worried.

“Vehicle driver’s injured, request assistance ASAP.”

Bobby rounds the corner.

“Dispatch, this is Captain 118. We an en route to the scene at West Olympic and Main.”

We scramble for the doors of the truck. Before I get on board I catch Bobby.

“Cap, who was driving the ambulance?”

“Hen.”

And I know it’s going to be bad.


	15. You Wanna Go For The Title?

**Eddie’s POV**

A meteorite straight through a person and out the other side. And she survived. That’s a new one on all of us. She’s not feeling so lucky.

“Of all the people on the planet, this thing had to hit me.”

“You know,” Buck says, launching into encyclopedia mode, “only one other person in history has ever been hit by a meteorite and that was in the fifties, which makes you pretty special.”

“I don’t feel special” she mutters, as we saw around the sofa and start lifting parts of it away. “How do you know that? _Why_ do you know that?”

“Buck was on the pier when the tsunami hit, so he’s kind of obsessed with natural disasters,” I tell her, and Buck shoots me a bright smile that makes me smile too.

It’s also become Christopher’s obsession. Buck’s way of helping them both through it is to research every other natural disaster out there that he can find, and they learn about them together. First it was tsunamis, then earthquakes, wildfires, then sink holes...now meteorites.

“You want a natural disaster?” our victim says. “Look no further than my life.”

She doesn’t know her audience. She’s talking to a room full of natural disasters.

*

Let’s just say therapy with Frank isn’t doing much to help me work through my issues.

“It’s not normal, right?” I say. I know the things he must be thinking, I’m not dumb. “I have these moments that are good. We save somebody from dying, my kid did something awesome. There’s moments where I should be happy, or proud or both. I know that. Just don’t feel it.”

“There’s no one right way to deal with trauma,” Frank says. “All the first responders I counsel process it differently.”

“Look, I’m used to trauma, I can handle it.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re sitting in that chair.”

“I don’t wanna be. I’d rather be at home with my kid enjoying the one good thing I have going on.”

“Why do you keep coming back?” Frank asks.

Because Bobby made me. And...

“I don’t want my kid to be like me. I mean, Chris is always this happy, open kid, ready to share every thought in his head. But he was in pain, and he felt like he had to hide that from me. Pretend he was OK. I don’t want that for him.”

“What was the event that brought you here?”

“I almost killed a guy with my bare hands.”

*

Turns out Hen, Maddie and I are all seeing Frank right now. Clearly there’s a lot of trauma fallout going around at the moment. It feels weird sharing that I’m going to therapy with the others, but somehow the fact that I’m not the only one helps a little.

“How’s therapy with Frank?” Buck asked. “Haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Seems good, but I’m not sure he and I are...clicking.”

I avoid catching Buck’s eye so he can’t question me further.

“You should try talking to Rosemary,” Chim suggests. “I went to her after the stabbing, she was great.”

“Was that the one I slept with?”

This gets my attention. Buck 1.0 strikes again.

“NO,” Bobby says emphatically. “She doesn’t work for the department anymore.”

“You slept with your therapist?” I ask Buck, eyebrows high, a half-smile, half-grimace contorting my face. I’m not sure if I’m amused, exasperated or...never mind.

“Yeah, I was going through a phase,” he says, shiftly uncomfortably on the couch under my scrutiny. “Hey, didn’t you just go through one of those?”

“Yeah yeah,” I reply, equally uncomfortable, and look away. Guess we’re even on that front.

Athena talking about May’s college essay is a welcome distraction.

“I remember the _drama_ when my sisters were applying to college. Think that’s half the reason why I decided to join the Army.”

“Well you tell a seventeen year-old kid that their future depends on writing 600 perfect words, the pressure’s going to get to them,” Bobby says wisely.

“I don’t remember what my college essay was about,” Buck says.

“Why don’t you call Maddie and ask her what she wrote for you,” Chim says, stretching out across his couch, and we laugh as Buck pulls a face.

**Buck’s POV**

“So she shoots him and then takes him back?”

Eddie clears our plates as I get two more beers out of the fridge. I’ve just finished recounting the story of Tara, Vincent, Maddie and the finger thoracostamy. Luckily, Chris was too engrossed in the TV to be interested in our conversation.

“Yeah,” I say, leaning back out of the fridge to catch his eye with a grin.

Eddie dumps the plates in the sink and spins back to the counter.

“And I thought my marriage was complicated.”

I laugh and uncap the beers as he clears more plates. Maddie and I cancelled our plans in the end. She wanted to see Chimney, so I called up Eddie to see if he and Chris fancied a night in at mine. Truthfully I’ve been feeling bad. Since Bobby explained to us about Eddie’s anger management issues, and the reason why he’s seeing Frank, I feel responsible. This thing tonight with Maddie just made me want to reach out to him and make things right. It’s been eating me up inside that I wasn’t there for Eddie and Chris when they needed me. I think I finally realised why Eddie was so mad at me back then. I just wish I’d know then what he was going through. I’d never have done something so selfish as take out a lawsuit when he was in so much pain.

“How’s your sister taking it?”

“It’s err, it’s kind of rough on her.”

Eddie has unknowingly given me a chance, so I take it.

“I think she thought she could save Tara from Vincent, but you know, she’s realising that you can’t save someone from themselves.” I tap the top of my beer bottle, choosing my words carefully. “Not if they don’t want it.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Eddie mutters, taking a sip of beer. And all I want to do is make him feel better, to reach right into his chest and heal the broken parts of him. But I settle for talking it out instead.

“Especially if you aren’t around to see they need saving,” I add pointedly, looking over at him. Eddie frowns, then turns his head to look at me as he catches on that I’m no longer talking about Tara and Vincent. I pause, holding his gaze while I work out the right words.

“Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Eddie.”

He leans back a bit against the counter. Eddie has always held a good poker face, but if you know him like I do, his eyes give him away every time, and I can see my words have had an impact. I walk slowly across the kitchen, to give my feet something to do.

“You and Chris needed me, and I had my head so far up my own behind with that stupid lawsuit...”

“We’re way past that, Buck,” Eddie says, waving his hand from side to side dismissively.

“I’m not!” I say fiercely, taking another step towards him. Eddie leans back on the counter, eyes widening in surprise.

“I should have been there,” I say adamantly. He needs to know. And I know that, whatever he says, he’s not over it. He’s just repressed it, like he does with every difficult emotion he has.

I drop my gaze to the counter top and slowly sink onto a bar stool.

“Maybe I could have...talked some sense into you.”

I’m being serious, but when I look over at him his lips have curved into a smile.

“You talk sense into me?”

I can hear the laughter in his voice.

“That would have been interesting.”

He takes another sip of his beer.

“I would have told you not to buy that truck,” I say, sneaking in a subtle criticism of that monster of a truck in the hope of making him smile.

“Yeah? You’d have talked me into buying something more expensive,” he retaliates, as his lips quirk.

“Yeah, fair point,” I admit.

“Look, things got a little out of hand for both of us,” Eddie says casually. “Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Interesting turn of phrase. I can’t help myself. I turn my body towards him.

“Why, ’cause uh, you’d rather do it?”

That catches him off guard.

“Excuse me?”

“Come on Eddie. If you’re not going to be honest with _Frank_ , at least be honest with _me_ ,” I say, smiling patiently in a way that I know will drive him insane.

“Who said I wasn’t being honest with Frank?”

“You said you two weren’t _‘clicking’_.”

“Maybe I’m just not a therapy kind of guy,” Eddie says dismissively, taking another drag of his beer.

“Right, right, you prefer to ‘ _work it out in the ring’_ ,” I say, adopting some kind of pro boxing commentator voice and making a fist. I smile at him, like I’ve proved my point.

“There was no ring, Buck. There was a fence,” Eddie says, dodging my question. I smile because I know this tactic, and I’m not letting him get away with it. It’s just the two of us now, and I’ll be damned if I let there be any more destructive secrets between us.

“Come on. You don’t think that, while you were _going through your phase_ , just maybe, you were throwing your punches at the wrong guy?”

“Seriously? You’re gonna make it about you, _again_?” Eddie shakes his head.

“Look. I’m just saying, you were pretty pissed,” I say. It feels funnier now that things with us are good again. “You know, I thought for sure that day in the grocery store that you were gonna take a swing at me.”

Eddie’s smiling now too.

“Not that you didn’t deserve it, but I wouldn’t do that.” He meets my eye. “You’re on blood thinners.”

Oh I see. Not a challenge if I’m on medication? That’s what he thinks.

“Mmm, I’d still take you.”

The words are out of my mouth before I can think about how they’ll sound. My stomach swoops, but before I have any time to process or regret what I’ve just said, Eddie shoots back.

“You think so?”

“I _know_ ,” I tell him, surging to my feet. The beer has made me brave, lowered my inhibitions. I swagger across the kitchen, eyes locked on Eddie’s. The hand that isn’t holding my beer has dropped to my belt, and I feel a stirring in the pit of my stomach. A frisson of electricity shoots through me as Eddie holds my gaze, chin tilted up and out, and I actually have to break eye contact and take a breath. I draw closer to Eddie, stopping just short of him.

“You wanna go for the title?”

He smiles, looking away from me and lifting his beer to his lips. He shakes his head once and takes a sip. He has game, I’ll give him that, because my eyes drop to his mouth automatically. And I don’t think he even realises he’s doing it.

**Eddie’s POV**

“So she shoots him and then takes him back?”

Buck’s just filled me in on Maddie’s drama with the woman she was accused of stalking. It’s very Hollywood high drama.

“Yeah,” Buck says, leaning back out of the fridge to catch my eye with a grin.

I dump our plates in the sink and spin back to the counter to clear the rest.

“And I thought my marriage was complicated.”

Buck laughs and uncaps the beers. He’s making light of it, but with her history I imagine Maddie’s finding it more difficult.

“How’s your sister taking it?”

“It’s err, it’s kind of rough on her.”

I take one of the bottles as Buck uncaps the second. “Think she thought she could save Tara from Vincent, but you know, she’s realising that you can’t save someone from themselves.” He’s tapping the top of his beer bottle, almost like he’s nervous. “Not if they don’t want it.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” I mutter, taking a sip of beer, dark thoughts forming overhead like thunder clouds. The problem with therapy is that it forces you to confront your feelings, to get them out in the open and expose them rather than tamp them down. I’m not very good at that.

“Especially if you aren’t around to see they need saving,” Buck says, bringing me back to the present. I frown and look up at him. When I see that nervous expression on his face, it dawns on me. He’s not talking about Tara and Vincent anymore.

“Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Eddie.”

I lean back against the counter top. Clearly I’m not the only one who’s been sifting through their regrets lately. I put this to bed, or I thought I had, but it soothes a small, raw part of me buried deep inside to hear Buck apologise, so openly and genuinely, for his actions. He walks slowly across the kitchen, and I can see it’s nervous energy powering his steps.

“You and Chris needed me, and I had my head so far up my own behind with that stupid lawsuit...”

“We’re way past that, Buck,” I say, cutting him off and waving my hand from side to side dismissively. I don’t want to drag old resentments up again. I forgave him, we moved on. I’ve resisted talking to Frank about our row so far, I’ll be damned if I talk to Buck about it now.

“I’m not!” he says fiercely, taking another step towards me. I start back at the ferocity in his voice, eyes widening. “I should have been there,” Buck says adamantly. And I can see how passionately he believes it, how much he’s thought about this and how much he regrets his actions. When he drops his gaze to the counter top and sinks onto a bar stool, I want to tell him it’s OK. I forgave him and I meant it. Then he keeps going.

“Maybe I could have...talked some sense into you.”

He might be being serious, but I can’t keep a straight face. Buck, the most impulsive and reckless person I know, talking sense into me? Sure. My lips curve into a smile.

“You talk sense into me?”

I have to hold back the laughter.

“That’d have been interesting.”

I take another sip of his beer.

“I would have told you not to buy that truck,” Buck says, half-smiling too.

“Yeah? You’d have talked me into buying something more expensive.”

“Yeah, fair point,” he admits. And just like that, the tension is gone. He’s apologised, openly and sincerely, and then skated over it with a joke to make it easier for the both of us. So I offer up an olive branch, the chance to put this all to bed.

“Look, things got a little out of hand for both of us, don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Buck turns to me, and I can’t place his expression.

“Why, ’cause uh, you’d rather do it?” he says.

That floors me.

“Excuse me?”

My voice doesn’t sound like my own.

“Come on Eddie,” he says, with a patient smile like he’s talking to a child. That riles me straight away. “If you’re not going to be honest with _Frank_ , at least be honest with _me_.”

“Who said I wasn’t being honest with Frank?”

“You said you two weren’t _‘clicking’_.”

“Maybe I’m just not a therapy kind of guy,” I say dismissively, and gratefully take another swig of beer to avoid Buck’s penetrating stare.

“Right, right, you prefer to ‘ _work it out in the ring’_ ,” he says, adopting some kind of sports commentator voice and making a fist, and smiling, like he’s got me all worked out. I hate the fact that he has.

“There was no ring, Buck. There was a fence,” I stall. Buck smiles at the wall I’ve put up and drops his head for a moment.

“Come on.” He looks up at me, those blue eyes piercing directly into mine. “You don’t think that, while you were _going through your phase_ , just maybe, you were throwing your punches at the wrong guy?”

“Seriously? You’re gonna make it about you, _again_?” Unbelievable.

“Look. I’m just saying, you were pretty pissed.” Buck’s fighting a laugh, like it’s all so funny now. I feel off-balance because he seems to have me all figured out. Has he been bribing Frank for intel on our sessions? Don’t be ridiculous, Eddie. It’s the downside of having a best friend who knows you inside out. Sometimes they know you better than you know yourself. Even the parts you’d never admit to anyone. Because he’s right.

“You know, I thought for sure that day in the grocery store that you were gonna take a swing at me,” Buck continues. And I can’t help a smile too.

“Not that you didn’t deserve it, but I wouldn’t do that.” I catch Buck’s eye. “You’re on blood thinners.” I sip my beer, thinking that I’ve won the point this time. I haven’t. Not even close.

“Mmm, I’d still take you.”

Oh yeah?

“You think so?”

The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. I also can’t stop the brief image of wrestling Buck in the ring that flashes into my mind. I knock back another mouthful of beer to wash it away.

“I _know_ ,” Buck says, lurching to his feet. He swaggers across the kitchen, his eyes locked on mine. A charge I didn’t feel before skitters through the air. I note without realising why that Buck’s free hand is on his belt, and it draws my gaze from his eyes down to his waist, via the hard lines of his chest and stomach. I feel a stirring in the pit of my stomach, familiar but unfamiliar all at once. Buck stops just in front of me.

“You wanna go for the title?”

I smile, looking away from him and lifting the beer bottle to my lips. I shake my head once and drink. I need to get a grip.

**Buck’s POV**

I let Eddie win at Mortal Kombat, obviously. Lena Bosko had the right idea, but giving Eddie an actual, physical fighting outlet was too much. He just needed this – to battle it out in a safe, virtual space. I can see the tension in his shoulders loosening as we play, see a genuine smile softening his face, and it makes it all worth it.

“Now this is my kind of therapy!” Eddie shouts, as he wins. I make a show of pouting over my loss, but ruin the effect slightly by smiling. I love having him and Chris over, for the laughter and life that fills this apartment when they’re here. It can feel a little empty sometimes when I’m alone, but they make this place feel like home.

Eddie gestures to my abandoned controls.

“Come on, one more round, pick ’em up.”


	16. The Family We Chose

**Hen’s POV**

“It got ugly.”

Eddie’s recounting a showdown with Christopher who, normally so calm and cheerful, blew up at his dad in a row two nights ago.

“When I said I had to work on Christmas, he went straight to his room and wouldn’t speak to me for the rest of the night.”

I smile sympathetically, as we drown our parenting sorrows over coffee and cookies.

“It’s just new, he’ll get over it.”

“Abuela’s bringing him to my aunt’s, I know he’s going to have a great time, it’s just...”

Eddie’s face clouds over a little.

“Last Christmas was...special. This one’s harder.”

That was brave. Eddie’s normally such a closed book, I didn’t expect him to open up. Maybe those therapy sessions with Frank are working after all.

“Ah, is that why you invited us all here?” I say knowingly. “Try and cram as much Christmas cheer between now and then?”

“Well, thought it would be nice to bring the boys together for a playdate,” Eddie says, gesturing into his living room. I nod and follow his gaze.

“All three of them!” I laugh. Because it’s not just Christopher and Denny in the living room decorating gingerbread today.

“Alright, who needs more cement?”

The third child is quite the Santa’s Little Helper, mixing cement icing for the boys with a huge grin on his face.

“Me!” the boys chorus together.

“Denny, we’ll do you first, with this big old piece...”

Buck is in his element with the kids. He’s so good with them – on their wavelength – and throws himself into whatever activity they’re doing with a hint of self-consciousness. He treats them like they matter, like their thoughts and words are important, and the kids adore him for it. My eyes slide over to Eddie. He’s watching Buck with a soft smile on his face. After a moment, he drops his eyes to the table, but the smile remains.

Next year, I’m going to ask Santa to knock some sense into them.

“Hey Buck,” Chris asks.

“Yeah.”

“Can I spend Christmas with you?”

Buck’s eyes widen and seek out Eddie, who shakes his head minutely. I know it’ll pain Buck to have to turn Chris down.

“I’m sorry, buddy, but I’m gonna be working on Christmas, with your dad.”

“Stupid work,” Chris mutters. Eddie shoots me a sideways glance.

“I promise you, he’ll forget he was even mad by New Year’s,” I tell him.

Buck stands, dusts himself off and pads through to us.

“Hey, is it just me, or does Christmas suck this year?” he asks in a low voice.

“Definitely not just you,” Eddie says sympathetically, sipping his coffee.

**Buck’s POV**

When Bobby told me that the options were Chinese or pizza for Christmas dinner, I had to do something to change that. So I made a call to the scariest police sergeant I know, who also happens to be very good at organising surprise parties.

“I did vote for turkey,” I say to Bobby, beaming, as we head for the loft. And it it so worth it to see everyone’s families there and have them shout ‘Merry Christmas’ at the team, none of whom suspected a thing. I high five Chimney and step aside to watch them find their loved ones amongst the crowd. Denny charges up to Hen and leaps into her arms, and Athena quickly sweeps Bobby away. But it’s Eddie’s reaction I’m most excited for. And I’m not disappointed.

“Christopher!” he cries, his face lighting up.

“Dad!” Chris yells, so excited, as Eddie scoops his son up in a hug and wishes his abuela a Merry Christmas. It fills my heart with joy, and makes all the last-minute preparations worth it.

**Hen’s POV**

“Buck, get over here!” Karen calls to him, and he joins her for a hug.

“I can’t believe you did this, thank you, Buck,” I say. He may be boisterous and drive everyone crazy, but his heart is solid gold under all that.

“Well, you inspired me,” he says. “You know, I figured we should all,” he reaches up to the rafters and plucks a bunch of mistletoe, the only person tall enough to do that without a step ladder, “get to immerse ourselves in the magic of Christmas.” He holds the bunch over us and kisses me on the cheek, then dances away and leaves us to it.

I wish nothing but good things for that boy for the rest of his life.

**Buck’s POV**

I’ve always wanted a huge family gathering at Christmas. So this may not be everyone else’s idea of the perfect Christmas, but it’s pretty perfect for me. This way, I get to share in everyone’s happiness, feeding off the love and joy from a whole bunch of families, with the added kick of knowing that I made their Christmases just that little bit brighter. Hopefully it also cancels out that bad karma from accidentally telling half a dozen kids that Santa wasn’t real a couple of weeks ago. I might want to take up this Christmas Elf job more often.

I sit between Denny and Christopher, with Eddie on Chris’s other side, and Maddie across from me, where I can flick brussel sprouts at her. I almost get away with it too, until Eddie catches me and tells me off for setting a bad example to Denny and Christopher. The boys, of course, find it hilarious. After we eat, and the bell miraculously hasn’t gone off yet, I find a present for Chris from the stack brought in for the kids today, and take it over to the pinball machine where Eddie is showing him how to play.

“Hey Chris, what is this?”

Eddie taps his abuela on the shoulder so she can watch too, and Chris and I open his present together. But I don’t stay too long, making sure to leave them some family time alone, and carry on spreading joy to the masses.

And that mistletoe I swiped from the rafters? I do the rounds with it. I go to Athena and Maddie and May and kiss them all on the cheek. I circle back to Karen and do the same. To his horror, I even threaten to kiss Chim with it, and chase him once around the loft before Maddie pins him and I peck him on the cheek.

But then my courage fails me.

It would be so simple to pass this off as a Christmas joke. A prank. I’ve set it up perfectly by kissing literally every woman here, and even grabbing Chim. I am almost sure I could get away with it. But I can’t trust myself.

So when I dance up to Eddie and Chris, and Eddie throws me that huge smile he usually saves for Chris, the one that’s all teeth as far as his canines, and throws his arms around me in a bear hug so all I can smell is smoke and cologne, and thanks me for doing this?

I just hug him back and smile, and tell him that he is welcome. And I turn to his abuela, and dangle the mistletoe over her head instead. She blushes and I laugh, kissing her on the cheek and wishing her Feliz Navidad in my best Spanish accent. And I shut down the twinge of regret. Lock it down and do my best to forget about it. Because no good can come of wishing for something impossible.

**Eddie’s POV**

I can’t believe Buck did this. He brought us all together on Christmas Day. This Christmas was always going to be tough without Shannon. But Buck has made this one special too, in a different way, and I know Chris will never forget it. Thanks to him, we’re not spending the day feeling sad, but joyful and thankful.

I catch sight of him throughout the afternoon, skipping around the loft like the Christmas Elf, spreading peace and joy as he goes, mistletoe in hand. I see him make the rounds of every single woman he can reach, see him chase after Chim with a wicked grin, laughing as Chim tries to curse him out in PG-13 appropriate language. Then he dances up to us, blue eyes sparkling, and I smile and throw my arms around him without even thinking about it.

“Thank you, Buck. Today has been great.”

I can’t find the words to express how much this has meant, for me and Chris, so I try to convey my gratitude with a bear hug instead. Buck draws back enough that he can meet my gaze, and smiles.

“You are most welcome,” he says softly. And, for a moment, I wonder. But the moment passes in the time it takes to blink, and then he’s swooping in on my abuela with that mistletoe in hand.

“Isobel! Feliz Navidad!” he cries, in pretty passable Spanish. And my abuela blushes – actually blushes – and lets him dip his head to kiss her on the cheek. And I’m left with the strangest sensation. Regret.

***

**Buck’s POV**

Well this is a first. Eddie and I standing on top of the ladder truck, secured by just a rope each to the roof, waiting to catch a man dangling unconscious from a plane. What did you do with your Wednesday?

It’s times like these that I am grateful for being tall and for working alongside my best friend every day. There’s no one else I could trust on such a risky manoeuvre, but with Eddie beside me, the screws out of my leg and the sun beating down on us, I feel on top of the world. Or on top of the ladder truck, at least. And with a successful catch, Stefan gets to go to hospital and not get scraped off the underside of a plane instead.

The mother-daughter pair who were due to jump out of the plane decide, unsurprisingly, that they’re OK with cancelling that particular near-death experience. The daughter marches after Stefan, lecturing her mother.

“I hope this will be the end of your flying. And your matchmaking.”

The mother turns to us with a glint in her eye.

“Are you boys single?”

Eddie and I turn to look at each other. I’m just trying to work out an answer when Chim jumps in.

“Actually, they’re not. They’re dating each other.”

Eddie and I snap our heads round as one to look at him.

“Oh I’m so sorry,” the mother apologises. She eyes us both and adds, “You boys do make a cute couple though.”

And she bustles off after her daughter, leaving us gawping at Chimney.

“You’re _welcome_ ,” he says. Hen and Bobby are practically wetting themselves laughing.

“Was she asking for her or her daughter?” I ask Eddie as we stow our gear in the side of the truck.

“Double date?” Eddie jokes, and I shudder.

“Dibs on the daughter. You’re closer to the mom’s age.”  
“I’m _two years older_ than you.”

“My point exactly. I’m young enough to be the mom’s grandson.”

“Some women like that kind of thing.”

“Eww. I’m too pretty be some lady’s toyboy.”

“Isn’t that the definition of toyboy?” he asks, shooting me a raised eyebrow with an expression that makes my heart flutter in my chest. “Some pretty boy like you?”

“Oh, so you think I’m pretty?” I grin, pouting just a little.

“Get a room,” Chim mutters as he passes us to get into the ambulance.

*

**Chim’s POV**

Ah, an unexpected brother showing up on my door to ruin my birthday. Just what I always wanted. I know that I’m being a bit of a downer on my own birthday, but I’m too pissed at Albert – and my father – to care. The silence hangs in the air as I stare down at my uneaten cake without seeing it.

“Guessing it’s not going too well with Albert?” Buck hazards a guess.

Of course.

“Maddie told you.”

“Ooh, sorry, was she not supposed to?”

Like I’m surprised. After she made a big deal about us all telling each other everything a few months ago, of course Maddie would tell Buck about this.

“Who’s Albert?

Of course. Whenever Buck knows something, Eddie has to know it too.

**Eddie’s POV**

I don’t know why Chim doesn’t want to hang out with his brother. I loved growing up with two sisters, house full of noise. Kind of makes me sad that Christopher is an only child, that Shannon and I never got around to having another kid. I can’t even let myself think about having another kid one day. Christopher’s got to be my priority.

“I keep telling you, family comes to us in different ways, Chim, lean in,” Hen says, brandishing a sheaf of papers and dropping one in front of each of us. I nod in agreement. My parents weren’t exactly ideal, and raising Christopher alone is tough, but in the 118 I’ve found a surrogate family that I wouldn’t substitute for anything. It’s unconventional, but I’m learning that conventional families are overrated.

“And don’t think you’re going to send him home without meeting all of us,” Hen continues, as I take a proper look at the piece of paper she’s given me, and frown.

“Uh, what is this?”

“’Talking points regarding Henrietta and Karen’,” Bobby reads.

“Social services is vetting Karen and me to become foster parents. We listed each and every one of you as references, so when they call, I need you all to sing our praises.”

I’ve been doing a quick tally of the points.

“You mean these specific 26 praises?” I ask, turning the sheet to face her. Buck smirks over her shoulder and Hen laughs, looking a little embarrassed.

“Karen made the list, she’s very thorough.”

“Hen, we know you,” Bobby says. “We don’t need some piece of paper to remind us of your many wonderful qualities.”

“I appreciate that Cap, but I’d rather you didn’t improvise. The stakes are very high.”

I don’t think she’d have to worry about Bobby somehow. He would find the right words whatever they asked. I’m kind of grateful for the prompts, but I think I could freestyle an extra good point or two if they needed it. And Chim must know everything there is to know about Hen. How could any of us mess it up?

“I didn’t know you played a musical instrument?” Buck says.

Well, maybe one of us could mess it up.

“Bassoon,” Hen confirms with a nod. “First chair. And I was damn good.”

She taps her papers against his page and stalks off with a shout of “Memorise, people!”

Buck waits until she’s out of earshot before he voices the confusion on his face.

“What’s a bassoon?”

And that’s why we got given a list.

**Hen’s POV**

Chim and I are still laughing when we get back to the loft.

“OK, grossest cases to talk about while we eat, we go first,” Chim shouts. Then we catch sight of Albert, and the cheer drains right of out him. Even worse, it’s clear that Chim is in the minority. Everyone else likes him: Buck thinks he’s funny, and Bobby’s won over by his knowledge of Korean cooking, especially dumplings. When he tells him he snacks on them at ball games, Buck and Eddie react as one. Buck looks at Eddie with a smile, and Eddie points at Albert.

“You like baseball?”

“Very much.”

“We should go to a game together.”

I hope Albert’s OK with being a third wheel on _that_ date.

In order to save Chim from making a fool of himself, I stride over to Albert with a big smile.

“Hi, my name’s Hen. I’m your brother’s long-time bestie.”

“Hen, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

I like this kid, he’s sweet. And he clearly thinks the world of Chim.

“I’m sure you probably have a lot of questions about your brother,” I say as I sit down next to Albert, and Chim goes to grab a spare chair because Albert’s taken his seat.

“Yes, I do. Do you know why they call him Chimney?”

Hmm, maybe not one to start with. Chim may not forgive me for telling him that.

*

**Buck’s POV**   
  


Albert is killing it on the karaoke with Hen. I catch Eddie’s eye and laugh as they harmonise over Elton John. Then Chimney sweeps in with a face like thunder, and the tension amps up a notch. Karaoke turns into pool, with Hen and Eddie facing off across the table. I’m a few beers down at this point, so as Eddie takes his shot and moves around the table, I sit where he was just leaning.

“I get it. You know, sometimes you’ve gotta put a little mileage between yourself and home so you can figure out what you want and who you are.”

I guess I saw a bit of myself in Albert, and admired his spirit in running away from a home life that made him unhappy. But I must have had more beers than I thought. I never talk about back home.

Luckily, Eddie comes to my rescue without even knowing.

“If I hadn’t enlisted I’d still be working with my pops.”

“Eddie,” Maddie chides, from her seat on the bar stool next to Chim. “Don’t encourage him to go off to war.”

“There is as much virtue to the noble warrior as there is to the most enlightened of scholars,” Albert says loyally, making Eddie’s day.

“That,” he says, pointing at Albert with a big grin on his face. “What he said!”

I think that noble warrior comment is going to be a regular feature from now on.

Albert’s a really great kid. He looks up to Chimney, and yet Chim’s jealous of him, and drunker than I’ve ever seen him.

“These people are all that I have, you don’t get to take them away too.”

Chim’s jealous over us? But they’re totally different people, we wouldn’t replace him. We’re a family, and families always have room to grow.

And then Chim mentions Kevin. Maddie told me a little about him, the best friend he grew up with, joined the LAFD with. Who died right in front of him. And Albert looks like Chim slapped him. But he’s not done yet. As we all stand awkwardly in the background, he delivers the final blow.

“You see Albert, you didn’t come to me because you wanted to be my brother, you came to me because you needed something from me.”

Albert doesn’t say anything. He throws down his pool cue with a clatter and storms out. It breaks my heart to see Albert so upset, and I race after him as the others shoot judging looks at Chim.

*

**Chim’s POV**

I was a jackass. And I apologised for resenting him because of our dad. Those are my hang ups, they’re not Albert’s problem. And everyone tells me what a great kid he is, so I double my efforts with him. He gets an invite to lunch at Eddie’s house, and of course he fits in like he’s always been here. Buck already loves him, and Christopher takes a shine to him as soon as they meet. Turns out Albert’s a natural with kids. I catch sight of the three of them messing around on Eddie’s couch as he and I put out napkins and cutlery.

“You ever think it’s weird that we spend 50 or so hours a week together, and still hang out?” I ask.

“No,” Eddie says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “What’s that saying? You got the family you were born into, and the one you choose”

I wait, and he follows it up with.

“Well that’s what the 118 is, the family we chose.”

And he taps my shoulder with some napkins, smiling, and goes over to Christopher and Buck.

**Maddie’s POV**

Buck’s hand appears in my line of vision as I’m straightening burger buns. With reflexes honed from 16 years of practice, I slap it away.

“Nope,” I say. He huffs.

“You’re not going to put out the cookies I brought?”

I straighten up, one hand on my hip.

“It’s not time for dessert, and _why_ are you acting like you made them yourself?”

“I drove _myself_ to go buy them,” he says, and I can’t help but laugh. Buck looks around the kitchen, confused.

“Look, I don’t really get why I had to bring something anyway, you practically shamed me into it.”

“Because that’s what you do when someone invites you to their house, you don’t show up empty-handed.”

How did he not learn this? How have I not managed to teach him basic life skills like this yet?

“Um, this is Eddie’s house, I’m not really a guest.”

Oh my dear, sweet, oblivious brother.

“OK, I was trying to save you from yourself,” I retort. “Like always.”

“But thanks,” Buck says, surprising me. “You are a good sister. I’m lucky to have you.”

I smile. I guess the Albert and Chimney drama affected him too. No one else knows what we went through with our parents. I haven’t told Howie, and I’m pretty sure Buck hasn’t told Eddie. It’s about the one side of himself he keeps locked away and hidden. But I’m so grateful we had each other. So I tell him that.

“We’re lucky to have each other.” Buck smiles, and I’m reminded for a moment of that little boy so desperate for love. It’s too intense a moment for either of us, so I break the tension. “Alright, now let me carry this stuff,” I order, pointing to the plates and boxes of food.

“Yes ma’am!” he shouts, snapping to attention, and we laugh.

I keep an eye on Buck for the rest of the afternoon, but I needn’t have worried. He is Christopher’s shadow, as always, and when he’s not with him Albert is. They’re both naturals with kids. Eddie sticks close to his son and his best friend, showing that softer smile he only ever uses on them. I just wish they knew what I can see.


	17. Tragically Single

**Buck’s POV**

Poker night at Maddie’s. Where I’m forcibly reminded of how single I am. Great. The only other single is Maddie’s friend from the dispatch centre, Josh. They’ve even picked us because we’re both single.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were setting us up,” Josh says. There’s something in the tone of his voice, his smile, that makes me wonder if, just perhaps, he doesn’t mind that idea.

“Oh no, I like you way too much to set you up with my brother,” Maddie says, as she pours us all fresh glasses of wine.

“Uh, hey now,” I interrupt, trying not to feel offended.

“And I love you too much to let you keep being so incredibly, tragically –”

“Some might say embarrassingly,” Chim interrupts. I’m struggling to remember what Maddie sees in him.

“Single.”

Ouch. Rail in on Buck night.

“Tragic seems a bit much,” I object.

“The closest you’ve got to turning on a woman in the past few months is shouting out ‘Hey, Siri’.”

“Well, she’s very good to me. She sings me songs, she delivers me food, she tells me where to be, when and how to get there. That’s pretty much love. The rest...”

I let my sentence trail off, with a kick of satisfaction at Maddie and Chim’s horrified reactions.

“Eww, no!” Maddie shrieks.

“Oh no no no, dear god I don’t wanna know!” Chimney says, looking like his bottle of beer won’t nearly be enough to forget that.

“Alright, just ease up on the solos,” says Josh, coming through for me. “It’s hard out here.”

“See, thank you,” I tell him. And we swap horror stories of dating in LA. Then we learn that even Albert’s on a date, and I feel even more depressed. I wish Eddie were here. Or maybe even that I was battling parent-teacher night with him rather than being subjected to this level of judgement from the smug couples in my life.

**Carla’s POV**

When Miss Flores sails into the class, I can practically see Eddie’s tongue fall out of his head.

“Good to see you again Ms Price. And you must be Mr Diaz.”

“Please, call me Eddie. It’s, uh, short for –”

“Edmundo?”

“Most people guess Eduardo,” he says, looking delighted that she’s guessed correctly.

“Growing up I had a grandfather named Edmundo. He was my favourite,” Miss Flores confides with a smile.

“Mine too,” Eddie says, with a dazed expression. I shoot him a look and he collects himself.

Miss Flores goes through her notes on Christopher.

“He’s still a little shy about reading out loud, but he definitely understands the material. I attribute that to him being read to from an early age, so bravo there.”

“No, we have his mother to thank for that,” Eddie says.

“Christopher tells me you’ve kept it up, since she’s been gone.”

“I try to do the voices, but she was better at it.”

“Well I’m sure you’re no slouch.”

“Oh, he isn’t,” I interrupt, breaking the moment. Whatever does or doesn’t happen between them, Christopher is the priority here.

“He’s a very sweet and kind boy. You’re doing a great job.”

“Thank you.”

He’s a little too enthusiastic to sound normal. I have to resist the urge to eyeroll.

I wait until we’re leaving the building before I bring it up.

“You wanna talk about that?”

“What, that I’m basically raising a funny, popular, young genius?”

Eddie’s practically bouncing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this. I laugh, lulling him into a false sense of security before I strike.

“That’s a pretty young thing for an English teacher,” I say.

“Was she pretty? I didn’t even notice,” he says, unconvincingly. It’s a good job they never caught him and tortured him for information in Afghanistan. With a poker face that bad? They’d have had our troop positions locked down within five minutes.

“Oh I’m sorry, I must have you confused with someone who couldn’t stop _gazing_ into Miss Flores’s big blue eyes.”

It’s an expression, but Eddie automatically corrects me.

“They were brown.”

“And you’re right. Too bad she didn’t notice,” I say, and walk off cackling.

She did notice. It was bad of me to pretend that she didn’t. But when I was talking about big blue eyes, I think it was because I was thinking of someone else with blue eyes. Someone who would have been here with Eddie at parent-teacher night if I wasn’t available. Someone I’m fairly sure would be more hurt than he ever let on if something happened between Eddie and Miss Flores.

**Buck’s POV**

Tessa and Gary might have had the most awkward first date I’ve ever seen. He’s locked out of the bathroom and she’s trapped in the window frame, possibly wishing that she’d been able to throw herself to ground level like the towel she’s wrapped around the contents of the toilet bowl.

“Oh god, he’s never gonna want to see me again. I’m sorry!” she yells over her shoulder, as Bobby and I assess the situation from inside.

“Are you in pain?” Hen asks Tessa.

“No, but has anyone ever died of actual shame?”

“It can only get better from here, right?” Gary says hopefully. “I’ve always wanted a bay window.”

Outside, I see Eddie smile at the chivalry.

“He’s probably never going to want to speak to me again. You have no idea how hard it is to meet someone these days.”

“Well, believe me, as a fellow solo, I know,” I tell her, jumping in before anyone else can make the joke at my expense. “Eddie might have finally met someone special.” Bobby looks at me, and I catch his eye and laugh. “Then he bit her head off, now she’ll never talk to him again, will probably flunk his kid.”

I trail off when I see Eddie shaking his head incredulously at me through the window. He doesn’t have to say the words out loud for me to know what he’s thinking.

_Why man, why?_

I splay my gloved hand out against the glass and whisper, even though it’s pointless because Bobby and Tessa can still hear us. “Well you kinda did.”

He shoots me an unimpressed look, but I can see the ghost of a smile behind it. Bobby gives us both a strange look.

**Eddie’s POV**

I have _got_ to stop Carla from talking to Buck.

But then I have only myself to blame when I go over to his after work. I need someone to talk this out with. Christopher means almost as much to Buck as he does to me. Maybe he’ll be able to see a solution I can’t?

Buck’s solution, it turns out, is beer. He slides a bottle across the counter top to me one-handed – a bar tender trick he picked up in South America? For someone who never stops talking, he shares next to nothing about his past. It’s like he was born an LAFD firefighter.

“I’m pretty sure all kids call their parents liars at some point,” he says, trying to reassure me as he sits down in the bar stool next to me.

“Yeah, I dunno. Feels a little different when you hear it coming out of your kid,” I say, staring glumly at the counter top.

“Just wait til he gets to the ‘I don’t have to do what you tell me’ phase.”

“Aren’t you still in that phase?”

Buck smiles, but I know it’s only because he’s got a mouthful of beer that there’s no immediate retaliation.

“Thing is, he’s right. I lied to him. Or maybe I lied to myself, I...” I shake my head. “Either way, I feel like a fool. I spent years trying to convince my kid to...believe in the Easter Bunny. But now I’ve got to tell him none of it’s real.”

“Yeah, I think you might be over-correcting here.”

“I told him he’s no different than any other kid. But he is, he has CP.” I shrug. “There’s a lot he can’t do.”

The hollow feeling is back. But this time the anger feels a little more burnt out. The desire to punch something still lies beneath the surface, but it’s not burning through my blood or hazing my mind. I can still think straight. Hell, I’m even opening up about my feelings. Frank would be proud.

“Have you ever heard of Jim Abbott?” Buck asks me.

“Baseball player?”

“Uh-huh. Pitched a no-hitter in the 90s, which in itself, is pretty crazy. It’s even crazier if you know that Jim Abbott was only born with one hand.”

Where does Buck get his trivia from? The confusion must have shown on my face because he smiles a little self-consciously.

“I read his book while I was in the hospital.”

“OK...how’d he do it?”

“He practised switching his glove to his throwing hand relentlessly, so that he could field and he could pitch.”

“I like the positivity, I’m just not sure how any amount of practice is going to help Chris stay on a skateboard.”

**Buck’s POV**

“I’m pretty sure all kids call their parents liars at some point,” I tell Eddie reassuringly, trying to convince him that he’s not the worst parent in history. I’m not sure how much success I’m having so far.

“Yeah, I dunno. Feels a little different when you hear it coming out of your kid,” Eddie says, scowling at the counter top. I can tell he’s going to be hard work tonight, so I try to lighten the mood.

“Just wait til he gets to the ‘I don’t have to do what you tell me’ phase.”

“Aren’t you still in that phase?”

Touché. He’s lucky I was already swigging back a mouthful of beer so I wasn’t able to throw a comeback his way. But it’s good to see him cracking jokes. Maybe his mood’s not so much of a lost cause as I thought.

“Thing is, he’s right. I lied to him. Or maybe I lied to myself, I...” Eddie shakes his head. “Either way, I feel like a fool. I spent years trying to convince my kid to...believe in the Easter Bunny. But now I’ve got to tell him none of it’s real.”

I stare at the ceiling as I try and find a tactical way to break this to Eddie. I’m fairly sure Chris already knows the Easter Bunny isn’t real.

“Yeah, I think you might be over-correcting here.”

“I told him he’s no different than any other kid. But he is, he has CP.” Eddie shrugs. “There’s a lot he can’t do.”

I cast around for a way to try and motivate him, and settle on a disabled baseball player. That should appeal to two things he’s passionate about, so he’ll at least be interested.

“Have you ever heard of Jim Abbott?” I ask.

“Baseball player?”

“Uh-huh. Pitched a no-hitter in the 90s, which in itself, is pretty crazy. It’s even crazier if you know that Jim Abbott was only born with one hand.” Off the confused expression on his face, I add an explanation. “I read his book while I was in the hospital.”

“OK...how’d he do it?”

“He practised switching his glove to his throwing hand relentlessly, so that he could field and he could pitch.”

“I like the positivity, I’m just not sure how any amount of practice is going to help Chris stay on a skateboard.”

Eddie shakes his head, looking down at the counter top without seeing it, scowling, no doubt beating himself up for being human, for wanting to protect his son.

I have a few ideas. Where there’s Google, there’s a way.

*

I knew Carla would be up for this. And between us, we talked Eddie into it too.

I watch Eddie and Christopher walk through the park together, practically bouncing up and down on my toes with excitement. Sunlight shines through the trees and lights them up in shades of gold.

“So, are you OK with Eddie meeting this new woman?”

Carla’s question is so direct that it throws me. I glance over at her.

“Sure, why wouldn’t I be?”

She gives me that patented look of hers that could pierce through steel.

“Oh honey, you don’t fool me,” she says. I open my mouth, not sure what I’m about to say, but she elbows me and directs my attention to Christopher instead. I can see he’s nervous, so I plaster on my widest smile for him.

“Surprise!” Carla and I yell, as we whip the cover off the accessible skateboard frame. His face lights up as Eddie explains what it is, and he motors over so we can strap him in. Carla takes Eddie’s phone, and he and I strap Chris in with his helmet and knee pads, holding securely on to the frame.

“Ready to ride?” Eddie asks him.

“Ready!” Chris shouts.

“And away we go,” I say, catching Eddie’s eye. We shoot grins at each other that are almost as wide as Christopher’s, then run him round the park, laughing, as Carla films it all.

***

**Bobby’s POV**   
  


I have to hand it to Buck. It’s out there, but it works. Arlene is left sporting a metal splint around her arm, but we have her out in record time and on her way to hospital to have her arm unwelded.

Buck struts through the bowling alley at the back of our convoy, preening from his triumph.

“Living tissue under a metal endoskeleton,” he says in his best Arnold Schwarzenegger voice. I can tell it’s for Eddie’s benefit. So can Eddie, because when he responds he keeps his face straight and doesn’t even look round at Buck.

“You know technically it would be an _exo_ skeleton, don’t you?”

“Can’t just let me enjoy the win,” Buck mutters.

He’s clearly waiting for praise from Eddie. When he doesn’t get it, I step in instead.

“Good job, Buck.”

Eddie looks round at me for that, like I’ve spoilt his fun.

“Thanks,” Buck says, with a pointed stare at Eddie. He doesn’t rise to the bait, but shakes his head and fights a smile.

*

**Eddie’s POV**

“Albert is annoying, but maybe he’s right. Things with me and Maddie are great, but we’re not exactly lighting the world on fire.”  
I notice Chimney's only broached this topic with us when Buck wasn’t in the room. Probably wise.

“Does it matter what he thinks?” I ask, shrugging my shirt on over my t-shirt. “Only you know how you feel about Maddie.”

Other people’s opinions shouldn’t matter in a relationship. As long as the two of you know you’ve got a good thing going on, it shouldn’t be anyone else’s business.

“I really care about –”

“Ah, the dreaded C-word,” Hen interrupts, shaking her head with disgust and disappointment. Chimney stops. “I really care about good arch support,” Hen continues. “That’s not how you feel about your significant other.”

“Obviously, I care about her more than good footwear,” Chim says.

“OK, how much more?” Hen asks.

“A lot,” he says, sitting down on the bench opposite Hen.

This is very much their domain. They’re best friends, they can challenge each other like this, ask the difficult questions. But I’m trying to put myself out there more. Be more vulnerable, as much as I hate that phrase and everything it implies. Frank would be proud.

“You love her?” I ask.

I wonder if I’ve overstepped, but Chim is so open to people that he doesn’t flinch at the major invasion of his privacy. He considers it for a moment, then a smile creeps across his face and he nods.

“Yeah.”

I push it a step further.

“Does she love you?”

“It’s unclear.”

Hen’s eyebrows are trying to take off from her face. I keep buttoning my shirt, watching Chim’s face closely.

“I mean, I feel like she does, but neither of us have actually said those exact words out loud.”

Hen snorts, shaking her head.

“You’ve been together for like a year.”

“Technically, we’ve been dating for 10 months and 3 weeks.”

“So you’ve been together for like a year.”

Chim and I both laugh at that.

“It’s just that, with everything she’s been through, that we’ve been through, we just wanted to take it slow.”

“Ha!”

I can’t help the laugh that bursts out of me as I tuck my shirt in.

“Glaciers move faster, Chim...” Hen says, buttoning her sleeve.

“They’re also melting, so maybe _fiery_ is overrated.”

“Hey guys?”

Buck’s voice breaks into our conversation as he leans in the door. He’s scowling.

“Reynolds wants to do a line up.”

Bobby has left us with a weary stand-in captain while he takes off on this camping trip with Michael and Harry. Needless to say we’re missing him already, and it’s only been one day.

Hen sighs.

“I can’t believe Cap left us with this guy,” she mutters, striding out of the room. Buck follows close behind her.

“I sure wasn’t going to do it again,” Chim calls after them. I stride to the door, making sure to beat him to it, making sure that Buck is out of earshot, and then I turn around and block him in.

“Hey.”

I feel a bit weird giving relationship advice – my relationships aren’t exactly shining examples – but this feels important.

“I get taking things slow. But tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone.” Chim nods, and I deliver the key part of my message as I do up the final button on my cuff. “So if you love her, tell her.”

**Buck’s POV**

We seem to have automatically rallied around Eddie as our leader in Cap’s absence. He leads the way into the house where the man has managed to shoot himself in the chest with a nail gun and assesses the situation.

“Is that thing still on?” Eddie asks, pointing to the nail gun lying on the floor.

“Um yeah, I don’t know, I was too scared to touch it,” the daughter says, her eyes on her father.

“I’ll secure the weapon,” I volunteer, sidestepping to it.

Hen and Chimney get to work.

“Hey how are you feeling?” Hen asks the patient.

“Like an idiot,” he says, embarrassed.

“If it makes you feel any better, it happens a lot more than you think,” Eddie says. I shoot him a look. I know what he’s referring to, even if no one else does.

We pack Hen, Chimney and the patient off to First Presbyterian Hospital, Alta Ventura. Eddie and I bang the ambulance doors in unison once they’re closed, and head back to the truck to follow Hen and Chimney to the hospital.

“Still hung up on that unfortunate incident last summer?” I ask him as we climb back into the truck.

“Unfortunate incident? You almost put a nail through my hand.”

“One time…my leg was in a cast, give me a break...”

“I know my family are Catholics, but I’m not quite ready for my _stigmata_ ,” Eddie says, pointing to the palms of his hands with his thumbs.

“Your what? Is that like Spanish henna?”

He rolls his eyes.

“Ask abuela next time you see her. And make sure you’re sitting down when you do, you’ll be there a while.”

**Eddie’s POV**

My talk with Chim stayed with me. Because although I meant every word I said, I’m also a coward and a hypocrite. I can advise someone else to follow their heart, but I can’t do it myself. I’m so out of practice that it’s become this huge, impassable thing. I can’t do huge, dramatic declarations of love. I think I’m broken when it comes to that. Christopher is the only person who brings out normal emotions in me, where I feel I love unreservedly and without judgement. For everyone else, I have to show how I care in other ways, through my actions, no matter how small.

Somehow we beat the ambulance there, even though they left before us. As Buck and I cross the forecourt, I realise that I haven’t seen him eat today. He never normally leaves enough time to eat in the mornings before work, and he’d never suggest us breaking for food during a shift. He’s so dedicated he’d go from call to call until he dropped. And without Bobby to look after him at work, he’ll be running on empty already.

“You hungry?” I ask, shooting a quick glance at him over my shoulder. “Want to grab a bite after we drop him?”

“Definitely,” he says, fiddling with the cuff of his long-sleeved shirt. “I haven’t had a proper meal since Bobby left.”

I thought so. It’s the little actions that sometimes matter. And seeing the smile, the relief on his face, is all worth it.

Then we open the ambulance doors into a horror film. Sprays of blood coat the walls of the ambulance. Chim and Hen look like they’ve just survived a massacre. It’s the most blood outside a person I’ve seen since I left Afghanistan. Does the patient even have any left?

“Whoa,” Buck mutters.

“What happened here?” I ask, snapping into action.

“He started coding and we had to start CPR, and things got a little messy,” Hen says, coming in with the understatement of the year. Chim jumps out of the ambulance, looking surprisingly chipper for a man covered in blood splatter.

“Yep, but now his ticker’s pumping like Old Faithful, 80bpm, with normal rhythm.”

I think I’d want my money back if Old Faithful was spewing out blood.

“And I just lost my appetite,” Buck mutters, peering into the crime scene of an ambulance as Chim fishes out his phone and makes a call, not even taking his blood-soaked gloves off first.

“Think I’ve just found mine,” Chim says, striding away from us with the phone to his ear.

“Hey, where are you going?” Buck calls after him.

“To ask your sister out on proper a date so I can tell her I love her,” Chim shouts back over his shoulder.

“We missed a lot, huh?” I say to Hen, who’s smiling and wiping blood off her glasses.

When Chim comes back, practically floating on air, he and Hen manage to convince Buck that he does want to eat after all. But Buck insists they go change and scrub all the blood off before he lets them come and sit with us to eat back at the fire house.


	18. Fighting To Come Home

**Eddie’s POV**

“Firefighter Diaz, do you copy?”

Bobby’s voice rings out over the radio. I’ve been hanging out hoses to dry, but now I turn and glance back towards the fire house as I answer him.

“Five by five, Cap.”

Bobby does the rounds of the rest of the team while I head inside to find them.

“Chimney, report.”

“Read you loud and clear. I’ve got eyes on Hen, who can I already tell has screwed up my coffee.”

“Like hell. One cinnamon coconut macchiato with a quad shot half pump of vanilla. And yes, my radio’s working just fine. Over.”

I hear the sass in her voice and grin as Bobby turns to the last member of our crew.

“Buck, sound off.”

This should be good. But nothing comes through the radio. I go to investigate, rounding the corner just in time to hear Bobby shouting, “Buck, the whole point of the test is to say it _into_ the radio.”

Buck looks like Bobby just spoilt his game. A little self-consciously, he pulls the radio up towards his mouth and says, “We have visitors, Cap.” Then his face breaks into a smile and he says, “Hey, did I pass? Over.”

I fight to keep in a laugh, and exchange a look with Bobby, who smiles as he says, “Close enough.”

Before I can shout a friendly insult up to Buck about his shocking radio technique, a familiar voice calls to me from inside the fire house.

“Dad!”

Christopher and Carla are waiting for me.

“Hey guys,” I say, surprised to see them, and Bobby pats me on the shoulder and leaves me to it.

“Five alarm, school emergency,” Carla warns me as I approach. I shrug, none the wiser. “He’s supposed to tell Miss Flores today what he’s presenting for Show and Tell on Friday.”

“And so he suckered you in to stopping here on the way,” I said, shooting Christopher a knowing smile.

“Oh, you know I can’t resist a cute face,” Carla says, smiling fondly down at Christopher, who is beaming with triumph. I try to step out of work mode for a moment and into dad mode. It’s only when the two collide like this that I realise how easy work mode is compared to dad mode.

“Uh huh. OK, Show and Tell...I thought you were bringing in your new hamster?”

I swear that thing works more night shifts than I do. Whenever I’m awake in the night, I can hear it trundling away on its little wheel like it’s training for Hamster Iron Man. Iron Hamster? That sounds like something Buck would come up with.

“Oh the new hamster is old news,” Carla warns me, rooting in her handbag. “Somebody was snooping in your closet.”

She retrieves a flat, rectangular box and hands it to me. I know what’s inside before I open it, but I still open the box reflexively and look at the Silver Star inside. For a moment, I swear I can hear an echo of gunfire, whirring helicopter blades, and voices shouting my name across the desert. For a few seconds, I don’t see anything else; not Carla, not Christopher, not the fire house. Just blood and sand and bullets.

“Is that what I think it is?”

Buck’s voice brings me back to myself, as he strides over to join us. My eyes dart to him and back, and I close the box and look away from the memories.

“It’s a Silver Star because my dad’s a hero,” Christopher says proudly.

“We don’t need jewellery to know that,” Carla says sweetly, smiling over at me. I can’t quite take her praise. Being a hero is an awkward fit on me.

“Do you ever just...wear it?” Buck asks, and again I’m grateful that he’s here to break up the seriousness with something so ridiculous and so Buck-like.

I shake my head.

“Never really found an outfit to go with it,” I say, and manage a smile for him. I look down at Christopher. How can I possibly deliver this at a Show and Tell?

“Boy if I had a medal, I would never take it off,” Buck says, taking the box off me and opening it to look at the Silver Star.

“We know,” I say, taking it back off him, and this time my smile is more genuine. Carla laughs too, watching us. I look back at Christopher.

“You sure this is what you want to bring to school on Friday?” I ask him seriously, hoping against hope that he’ll say no, that he’ll change his mind and go back to the hamster.

“And you said you could tell the story,” Christopher insists. Dread settles in my stomach.

“Is that a story you can tell fourth graders?” Buck asks, sensing my reluctance and correctly interpreting the reason behind it. Well, half the reason.

“Not really.”

“Please Dad, please,” Christopher pleads. I look up at Carla, who I can tell is just as eager for me to tell the story, so may as well be begging me too.

“OK,” I say, and hear Buck laugh beside me. “I’ll figure something out.”

“You promise?” Christopher asks.

The bell goes, our signal to leave. Buck instantly snaps to attention, looking around for the others.

“Yes. Yes, I promise,” I say, straightening up to follow Buck and handing the box back to Carla. “You and me, Friday morning...telling appropriate-for-fourth-grader war stories.”

How the hell am I going to manage that?

“Love you,” I call to Chris, and jog backwards a few steps so I can keep him in sight for as long as possible.

“Love you too!” he shouts, and I run to join the others on the truck.

*

Hayden is only a few years younger than Christopher. And now he’s 45 feet underground, only five feet above the water. If he falls any further, he’ll drown. The thought sends a chill through me. It would be a horrific way for anyone to die, let alone a kid.

The plan is to use a drill rig south of the well to dig a parallel tunnel wider and slightly deeper, then punch across by hand.

“Punch across by hand,” Buck says, glancing at me and then over at Bobby. “Feels like a lot of distance to cover when you’re 40-something feet down.”  
He’s right. But I know I can do it. I don’t tell him that though.

The drill rig gears up as Buck starts lowering the radio down beneath the earth, and I go to join the mother and the rest of the team around the camera.

The desperation in the mother’s voice strikes a chord in my chest. This innocent little boy is down there, and she blames herself. It’s only too easy to imagine if it were Christopher down there instead, and how I would want the people topside to be doing everything they possibly could to get him out.

“Baby I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, I can’t do this.”

I see Hen move forward to comfort the mother, so I step in and take the radio instead.

“I got this,” I tell her, and speak into the radio, staring at the frightened little boy on the screen. “Hey Hayden. My name is Eddie. I’m a firefighter, and I’m here with your mother and a whole lot of other people. We’re all working to get you out of there. Stay calm, Hayden. It might get a little noisy, but don’t be scared. We’ll be there soon.”

I end the transmission and put the radio down.

“Thank you,” the mother says tearfully.

“Thank us later,” I tell her. “When we give you back your son.”

*

Hayden’s been underground for ten hours. It’s pouring with rain and the storm’s only a mile away. The Commissioner wants to pull the plug. Buck argues, and I feel a surge of gratitude for his compassion, his determination to rescue those in need. He won’t give up on Hayden either.

Bobby convinces the Commissioner to let us take a shot. Then he tells Buck to get a winch and harness together. Before any of the others can volunteer or be assigned, I jump in.

“I’ll go in.”

Bobby looks at me, surprised. I make sure there’s no room for negotiation.

“I was the one who was talking to him on the radio. He knows my voice. Makes sense that it’s me. Suit me up, I’m going down.”

*

I can’t stop thinking about how I failed Christopher. And Shannon. They needed me, and I let them down. I was never the husband Shannon needed. I was an absentee father who got to hide behind the glory of the Army when I should have been at home with my family. I try to make it up to Christopher every day, but it never feels like enough. Maybe that’s why this means so much to me.

“Alright, extra oxygen in case you need it,” Bobby says, bringing me back to the reality of this rain-sodden tent. “Water’s rising fast down there. Green light full supply, yellow light, two minutes, I want to see you topside before you see red.”  
“Copy that.”

The thunder cracks, ever closer. The Commissioner calls again for us to stop. Buck argues again. And we get a reprieve. But I’m on the clock. 30 mins and nothing more.

**Buck’s POV**

I’m on the line, winching Eddie into darkness. I don’t like to see him disappear beneath the earth, but I know no one has a better chance of getting that boy out alive.

At 35 feet we lose comms and the radio drops out of range. Soon after, the camera picture disappears too. When Bobby can’t raise him, he tells me to bring Eddie back.

“No, Cap, can’t we give him more time?” I argue, knowing that Eddie would want every second possible. He would want me to fight his corner and give him the best shot of rescuing Hayden. If it were me down there I know he’d do the same. “He could have him, or almost have him.”

“Or he could be suffocating in mud five stories below ground,” Hen points out. I block that image out of my mind, because that’s just not an option. Eddie will come back up.

“We’re almost down to one minute,” Bobby says, showing me his watch. 1:34.

I feel a little better knowing that we’re at either end of the same rope. I watch the line like a hawk, gripping onto it and waiting for the tug that tells me he has Hayden and they’re ready to come out.

The watch beeps and goes off, and Bobby orders me to bring Eddie back up. Reluctantly, I start winching him up. But we haven’t gone more than ten feet or so when the rope goes horribly slack in my hands.

“I, I, I’ve lost the weight!” I shout to the others, panic rising.

“What does that mean?” Chim shouts.

“I don’t know, something’s wrong,” Bobby says.

Stay calm. The rope’s rising fast now.

“Fifteen feet! Ten, five...”

“Oh my god.”

“Oh my god.”

Hen and Chimney’s shocked voices speak the words echoing in my head, as the end of the bright yellow rope finally emerges from the ground. It’s been severed.

“He cut the damn line!” Hen yells to Bobby. I rock back on my heels. Now Eddie’s all alone.

*

“Chim. I want you to gear up, I’m sending you down.”

“Copy that.”

“Cap, I should be the one to go down,” I yell, joining them. I feel responsible. I was holding the rope. I should have bargained harder, got Eddie more time. I need to be down there with him.

“So we can end up with two cut lines?” Hen asks pointedly. I try to think of a response, but we all know she’s right.

“Camera’s back!” Chim shouts. Our hearts all sink when we realise that it’s under water.

**Eddie’s POV**

I’ve never been so glad to see Chim, and I’m touched by the joy on his face to see me.

“Thank God you’re OK. I was afraid I was gonna have to save your life.”

“Hayden and I are just fine,” I reassure him with a smile. Chimney secures Hayden with him.

“We’re going to send another line down for you. Try not to cut this one.”

I laugh, sheer relief making this all way funnier than it should be.

**Buck’s POV**

Chimney and Hayden re-emerge, and Hen and his mother descend and swoop him away to get checked over.

“Eddie’s fine, he just needs a ride,” Chim says, as we help him to his feet. I’m grinning like an idiot as Bobby says he needs another 50 foot line to go down.

“Buck, let’s pull Eddie up and let’s all go home,” Bobby says.

Then lightning strikes the drill rig.

Flames erupt, the drill rig tips, and people scramble for cover everywhere. Instinctively, I rush to Bobby and pull him down to the ground, out of danger. For a few moments, all I can hear is creaking, groaning metal and shattering glass, and all I can feel is rain hammering down on us from the stormy sky. As soon as the roaring fades, I lift my head and glance back to where we’ve been digging. And I swear my heart stops beating.

The hole is gone. It’s all gone. The earth has swallowed Eddie up.

“Eddie! Eddie! Eddie!”

I scramble over on my hands and knees and scrabble at the ground with my gloved hands. I shout Eddie’s name over and over, my voice getting higher and more panicked. I claw at the mud but there’s so much of it I barely even make a dent.

“Buck. Come on, get up, Buck.”

Bobby’s behind me, trying to lift me to my feet. I resist, and he ends up on his knees with me sprawled on my back across his legs. The world has tilted off its axis. I can’t breathe. Eddie is trapped underground. And I’m sobbing and incoherent and shaking, while some vague, small part of my brain registers that this must be a panic attack. I’ve never had one before, and I’m so grateful that I haven’t, because it feels like dying. And my brain is frozen, jammed on one word and one thought alone.

_Eddie_.

*

“Cap, we’ve gotta go dig.”

I accost Bobby at the sink, where he’s washing mud off his hands. I hid in the upstairs bathroom at the farmhouse to calm down, to recalibrate. Now fear has been replaced with resolve and determination.

Bobby shakes his head.

“We don’t have another drill, Buck, and even if we could get another one up here, their access road is flooded.

“OK, well then we dig by hand.”

“Not with all this rain, we could trigger another collapse,” Chim says, chewing gum.

“How long can he last down there?” I ask.

“You’re talking thirty feet of wet earth, coming right down on top of him.”

Bobby is watching me carefully. Chim doesn’t want to meet my gaze. Slowly, it dawns on me why.

“Wait, you all think he’s dead.”

Rage rises in me alongside the panic.

“Nobody thinks that,” Bobby says quickly.

“We just don’t know how to get him out,” Chim says.

“Nobody’s giving up, Buck,” Hen says, her voice steady and calm. “Nobody. We’re gonna find him.”

**Eddie’s POV**

The oxygen is out. I don’t know if I’m anywhere near close to that reservoir. Half a mile is nothing above ground. But without oxygen, it’s lung-bustingly far. Who knows if I’m even in the right drainage tunnel.

I hear Buck’s voice echoing in my head.

“ _Feels like a lot of distance to cover when you’re 40-something feet down.”_

It takes four minutes – or is it five? – for your brain to shut down and suffer irreparable damage without oxygen. I’ve lost all track of time now. I’m fairly sure my oxygen-starved brain is dying, because memories start flashing through my mind, tinged with green from the underwater light.

I see them all. My friends, my son. Bobby, Hen, Chimney. Christopher. Buck.

_Well that’s what the 118 is. The family we chose._

The closest friends I’ve ever had. My family. My son.

And maybe I’m almost dead already, because then I see Shannon, hear her voice, talking urgently to me.

_Eddie, Christopher needs you._

And it summons the last ounce of strength in my body. Because I’m always going to fight to come home to my family.

**Buck’s POV**

I feel numb. Bobby is giving orders, briefing the troops. I’m giving out thermal cams. Chimney has oxygen tanks and warming blankets on standby. I barely hear him. My thoughts are 45 feet underground.

Before we can move off to our assignments, then there’s a disturbance at the back of the group, and a figure stumbles into view through the crowd.

“Eddie?” Bobby calls.

“Eddie!”

I hear myself shout his name, but it’s like it’s echoing from somewhere far off. It’s him. _Alive_.

“I heard you calling,” he murmurs, and reaches out a hand before twisting and falling to the ground. I’m already rushing to his side, the others right behind me. I drop to my knees beside him, lifting him, left hand holding his arm, my right hand clutching his. I don’t think I’ll ever let go. He catches my eye and my wild, relieved smile, and he smiles at me too. It lights me up like a fire.

“Come on Eddie, let’s get you checked out,” Hen says.

“I’ve got a big date Friday. Can’t miss it,” he gasps. I laugh, because now Eddie’s up topside and _alive_ , everything seems funny.


	19. Rope Rescues and Power Cuts

**Eddie’s POV**

“Buck, let’s go, get out of here!” Bobby calls. We’re hauling our patient on the blanket back towards the stairs, while Buck searches for a cat. Of course he does. My focus stays with the patient, who loses consciousness as soon as we carry him out, but a small part of my mind remains in that apartment until Buck – and Julio the cat – join us on the ground.

Maddie’s voice rings out over radio as we’re handing over to Hen and Chimney.

“Go for Captain Nash,” Bobby responds. Buck has answered the phone that way one too many times, with “Go for Buck”. I need to talk to him about copying Bobby.

“I have a deaf woman trapped in Apartment 10G,” Maddie says. We all turn back to the burning building, counting floors. Just as my eyes reach the 10th, glass smashes from a window and rains towards the ground. We all know who the waving arms that appear through it belong to.

“Gladys.” Buck says.

Another crew try to reach the 10th floor, but the ladder doesn’t even make it halfway.

“That’s as far as the ladder will reach,” Bobby shouts. “The end of her hallway’s engulfed.”

“Look, the building next door’s not on fire.”

Buck’s observation skills are on point today. Then he suggests descending from the roof on a rope and collecting Gladys on the way back to the ground. Typical Buck.

“You wanna do a rope rescue?” I say, already knowing the answer. “Of course you do.”

“Well he’s not doing it alone, he’s going to need you on the pulley,” Bobby says. “Go go go!”

Ever the soldier, I snap to and follow his orders dutifully, jogging after Buck, who’s already taken off for the rope bags and the next door building.

We make it to the roof in record time. Buck slams through the fire door and vaults pipes across the roof. I catch up with him at the edge. In sync, we peer over at the long drop to the ground, then across the gap to the building on fire, then finally back at each other.

_I hope you know what you’re doing, Buck._

We launch our rope bags across the space first, trying to make ourselves as light as possible. Normally a jump like this wouldn’t be an issue. But we’re in our kit, and the roof we’re jumping to may or may not be stable. There’s so many things that can go wrong with this. But Buck doesn’t give me time to think about them. He backs up, takes a few quick breaths, and bolts for the edge of the building. He clears it easily. Then it’s my turn. I’m fairly confident, but I’m still grateful when my feet slam into the roof on the other side.

We set up quickly, and I lower Buck through the smoke to the 10th floor. He braces his feet against the wall, swings back on the rope, and smashes through the window. I hear the crowd gasp below. Shortly after, Buck’s voice crackles against my chest through the radio.

“Eddie I got her, coming back out.”

“Copy that. Fire’s getting a little close up here. We need to double time it.”

As I say it, the roof shudders behind me. Gaping holes appear, and fire shoots up into the night sky. We haven’t got long.

“Cap, the roof is gone!” I radio to Bobby.

“Buck’s going to have to lower himself the rest of the way,” he replies. “Secure that rope and you get outta there.”

I grimace. I don’t like leaving Buck to man the line alone, especially with a frightened patient on board. But if I don’t go now I’m not getting off this roof. I fasten the rope as securely as I can and radio down to him.

“The line’s all yours, Buck.”

“All right, I’ve got it, I’ll see you down there.”

I make a run for it.

By the time I make it back down to ground level, Buck and the woman have taken the quick route thanks to a fire-frayed rope line. I’m grateful that I didn’t have to watch them freefall to the crash mat, but I don’t tell him that.

“Got bored and decided to take the short cut, did you?” I ask instead, eyebrow arched, but a half-smile playing on my lips. He’s too psyched to even care that he just fell nine stories to the ground.

“You should have seen it, Eddie. What a rush!”

Buck is still pumped when we get back to the fire house.

“That was something, wasn’t it? A fire that big, and no fatalities. We have to celebrate.”

As the rest of us change and get ready to head for home, Buck dances around the locker room, high on life and keen to celebrate. As he floats the idea of hitting up a bar and some loaded fries, I slam my locker shut, repressing the regret I feel at having to turn him down.

“Wish I could, man. Christopher’s hosting his first sleepover tonight. You’re more than welcome to come and celebrate with a bunch of nine year-olds?”

I say it jokingly, but I’m completely serious. Buck would make this sleepover, that I’m a little nervous about hosting, so much more fun. Plus, I think he’s on a wavelength with the nine year-olds. They’d adopt him into the fold and I wouldn’t see him again til morning.

Buck laughs, too excited to notice. “The rest of us will toast your absence.”

As the others all make their excuses too, I pull a face and leave quickly, taking the coward’s way out. I can’t bear to see Buck deflate with disappointment as he’s left standing alone.

*

The next day, Buck is on another, different mission.

“Look, I’m just saying, Red is a 40 year veteran of the department. Two citations for bravery.”

We’ve had a whole morning of stories about this retired firefighter he met at the bar last night. I’m starting to think I should have dragged him round to mine to babysit a bunch of nine year-olds after all. We thought pool might change his focus, but he’s still on a tirade. Once he locks onto a subject, his enthusiasm is almost overwhelming. It’s simultaneously one of his greatest strengths and weaknesses.

“And now he lives alone, in a one bedroom apartment that he pays for with his pension.”

Chimney taps the ball. Hen and Bobby studiously ignore him. But I can’t. Leaning over the table to take my shot, I take pity on him and answer.

“Well, from the way you describe him, it sounds like he’s OK with that.”

My focus is off, and I pot the wrong ball.

“Well, I’m not OK with it,” Buck says, as hang my head over the cue with a sigh and Bobby says, “Nice one, Eddie.”

“So it’s all about you,” Chim says, leaning on his cue and gesturing to Buck.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” Buck insists, and I catch a hint of irritation in his voice.

“It does seem like his situation is bothering you more than it bothers him,” Bobby says, setting up the ball and taking his shot, with much more success than me.

“Yeah. I mean, it does bother me,” Buck says. I watch him, leaning on my cue. “Look, Red has no friends,” he turns to me, gesturing at me, “No family,” he turns to Hen and copies that move, although she’s much further away. I got a waft of Buck’s aftershave, and now it’s all I can smell. I lean back, fiddling with the pool cue, trying to clear my head.

Hen is taking her shot now, and I can’t help but feel like they’re all also lining up to take shots at Buck as they speak.

“Life gets busy, it’s easy for people to lose touch, especially when you don’t work in the same fire house anymore.”

“That doesn’t make sense to me,” Buck says stubbornly. He looks around. “I mean, that would never happen –” he looks straight at me, “to _us_ , right?”

I can’t look at him and see that desperate intensity in his eyes that makes me want to say or do something stupid. I hang on to that pool cue a little tighter, not trusting myself to respond right away.

Bobby comes to the rescue, shaking his head. “Of course not, we’re family,” he says reassuringly.

“Yeah,” I agree, finding my voice again. “It’s never going to change.” This time, I make sure to hold Buck’s gaze.

“Yeah. Like, if Bobby retired,” he says, gesturing to our world weary captain.

“You know something I don’t?” he asks, and we all laugh as Buck moderates his words.

“ _Some day_. You know, or if one of us got moved to another house –” he darts an anxious glance at me again, “We would all stay in touch.”

Who does he think might get moved? People don’t usually move houses if they’re happy where they are, unless they promote or they get moved on a disciplinary. I’m sure there’s a third one, but I can’t remember it. I push it to one side for now. Buck’s looking for reassurance, so I’ll be damned if I don’t drag it out of the others for him.

“Exactly,” I say, gesturing to Hen and Chimney, long-time veterans of the 118, with my pool cue. “Like you two. You still keep in touch with the other guys who used to be here, right?” I nod as I say it, hoping they’ll get the message to back me up.

“Umm, I dunno if we’d call some of them ‘friends’,” Hen says, pulling a face. Great start.

“Yeah, I spoke with Tommy last year,” Chimney says. “I was calling to ask for a favour, but...” he trails off, realising that he’s not helping. I wait. Bobby says nothing, just watches me. I can almost hear him saying, _You’re on your own here._

I look from one to the other, waiting for someone to say something that will reassure Buck. I can practically feel him vibrating with nervous energy next to me. I recognise it. It’s the fear of someone who thinks they’re going to get left behind. As someone who’s been left behind in a marriage, I get it. And this is Buck, who wears his heart on his sleeve. Who pours so much time and energy and devotion into his relationships. I can’t bear to see him deflate again like he did last night when everyone bailed on him. Buck brings out this need in me to make him happy, to reassure him and make him smile. And he does the same for me, whether he realises it or not. It’s a kind of partnership I’ve never really felt before.

“Anyways,” I say finally, putting an arm out, palm up, as if fending off the negative thoughts from the others, “that won’t happen to us.”

I hold Buck’s gaze as I say it, willing him to believe me. When I say ‘us’, I’m fairly sure I’m not really referring to the 118 as a whole.

“Better not,” Buck grumbles, watching me bend over the table to take another shot.

It only occurs to me as we put away our cues. The third reason for moving fire houses.

You might be moved to a different house if you get into a relationship with someone on your team.

**Buck’s POV**

I can’t help but see the similarities between Red and his old flame and me and Abby. We even look a little alike. And he’s still got her picture out after all these years. I replay our conversation in my mind a lot the next few days.

“You got anybody, kid?”

“Me? Uh nah. I did once.”

“Now listen to me. You can be the hero, save lives. But don’t neglect having your own. Last thing you want is to be at the end holding nothing but regrets. Trust me, I know.”

Is this what lies ahead for me?

I just wanted to help Red, but I blew it and now he’s mad at me. Maybe I was just doing it for the wrong reasons, making it all about me. And seeing his old flame like that, barely remembering who he was anymore, reminded me of the past. Of Abby and her mom. When I mention this to Maddie, she narrows her eyes and goes into shrewd Big Sister mode, eyeing me from where she sits perched on the windowsill.

“You still think about her a lot?”

I know who she means, but I choose to go with a joke instead.

“Abby’s mom?” Maddie laughs and pulls a face, so I answer honestly. “Yes fine, sometimes I still think about Abby. But that isn’t what this is about.”

“OK,” Maddie gets to her feet. “So you don’t think this business with Red is hitting a little close to home. A lonely hero firefighter who’s pining for his lost love?”

“I mean, that’s ridiculous,” I brush her off. She waits silently. It’s a tried and tested tactic that works with me. I grimace and spin on the stair to face her.

“You think I’m lonely?”

“I think that you tried dating a few times, after Abby left –”

“Which did not work out,” I interrupted.

“So you should stop trying?”

It’s not that simple.

“Look, I know how hard this is,” Maddie starts.

“Do you?”

How can she possibly know?

“Look, no offence, but you’re never the one getting left behind. You’re the one who leaves.”

I’m always the one left behind. But there is one valid excuse for when Maddie was right to leave.

“And no, not with Doug. OK, Doug, you definitely should have left.” I shrug. “All the guys you dated before him? The girl you were best friends with in high school, Mom and Dad? Me?”

Maddie looks uncomfortable now, almost bordering on tears, but this feels important. She has to know that, really, she’s not the one who has to feel this way. She’s always been able to call the shots and move on. She’s never the one left to pick up the pieces, the one left broken-hearted and alone. That role has always been mine.

“Buck...”

“Maddie, I’m not mad. I’m just saying, maybe you don’t understand. You’re always the one who leaves. You don’t know what it’s like to watch someone you love walk away.”

*

Red is like the Ghost of Christmas Future. I watched A Muppet Christmas Carol with Eddie and Chris last year, and this is what comes back to me when I speak to Red. His life could so easily be mine. I could be on the same tracks as him, following him along to the same destination in 40 years’ time. I’m nearly 29 years old. I’m alone. The only woman I’ve ever truly loved left me. My sister left me. No one else wants to stick around. Everyone else has lives. It’s like we were all at the same party at midnight, and then all of a sudden it’s 4AM and when I look around, everyone else has grown up and gone home except me.

*

**Eddie’s POV**

  
Buck’s tenacity and stubbornness knows no bounds. He’s convinced the hospital to discharge Red so he can die at home, and rounded up as many members of Red’s old unit as he can manage to give him a guard of honour as he leaves. And at the end of the line is us: me, Bobby, Hen and Chim. We salute him, and Bobby helps him into the captain’s seat for his final journey home.

*

When I wake up to a text from Buck the next morning saying ‘Red passed away at 05:23 this morning’, I know how much that will have hurt him. I offer to come round, but Maddie has beaten me to it. So I arrange for Buck to come over tomorrow and see Christopher. I saw how much meeting Red affected him. There’s nothing like a hyperactive nine year-old getting you to play with Lego and watch Finding Dory for the twelfth time to get you out of your own head. Christopher has saved me more times than I care to count, and he’s starting to rack up a good tally on Buck too.

*

**Maddie’s POV**

“He wasn’t alone in the end. You were a good friend to him.”

Buck’s eyes are red-rimmed from crying, and I can hear the tremor in his voice still. I insisted on coming round once I read his text. I almost had to fight Eddie to be able to come round tonight. We compromised: Eddie and Christopher will see him tomorrow instead. But tonight, when Buck feels so raw, I think I need to be here with him.

“Or did I just do that thing that I always do and make it about me? Try and fix him to make myself feel better?”

Buck’s on that negative spiral. He believes the bad things about himself that other people say, even when they’re only joking. It hurts me to hear, but I know I have to be strong and sensible, to revert to the parenting side of me to get him through this. It’s a role I’m well used to by this point.  
“Maybe. But you were there when no one else was.”

“You know, all he ever wanted to do was talk about the job.” He blinks a few times. “It really was his whole life.”

I know that the little voice in his head is shouting ‘ _Just like me! Just like me!_ ’ at him right now. I need to bring him back to me right now.

“Evan. You are not Red.”

Using his first name always grounds him. I only ever use it when I really need him to listen to me.

“His life is not your future,” I insist, as Buck shakes his head and gestures at me, like I’ve summed it up in one.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do,” I tell him fiercely. “Because he didn’t have a sister. He didn’t have me.”

I did leave Buck. I left him with our parents and I left him for Doug, and I have to carry that with me, have to see the pain it inflicted in the scars left behind on Buck’s soul. But I will not leave him again.

“I know that I left you twice. Once with Mom and Dad, and once when things got rough with Doug, but I came back. Because you’re my brother. And I love you.”

Buck smiles, tears still threatening, and shrugs.

“I love you too,” he says, half-laughing the words like he’s embarrassed, throwing me an expression that says I forced it out of him. But I know what it means for him to hear those words. And now I reinforce them.

“You are never gonna be left behind. OK, no matter what.”

“You promise?”

And then I see my vulnerable baby brother. The one who needed me, who I left behind. The little boy who only ever wanted to be loved. The man he’s grown into, with the kindest soul, who will make someone the luckiest man or woman on the planet one day, because he has so much love to give to the right person.

I don’t answer him in words. Instead, I brace my elbow against the table, and extend my little finger to him. We used to do this all the time growing up. Buck laughs, and I laugh too, though we’re both doing it through our tears now.  
“I promise,” I choke out. And Buck reaches out and links his finger with mine. I cover his hand with my free hand to reinforce it.

***

**Eddie’s POV**   
  


As we wind our way up into “the middle of nowhere”, we spot the runaway hot air balloon making a bid for freedom.

“All looks so romantic til someone has to call 9-1-1,” Buck says over the headphones, watching it out of the window. I shoot him a sideways look, waiting for him to elaborate.

“I hear dispatch gets a lot of calls here,” he explains.

“Maddie tell you that?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

“Err no...someone else.”

He actually looks uncomfortable, and looks away from me after that.

“Cap they issued a wind advisory for this area, possible 40mph gusts,” Buck tells Bobby, as I make some rough calculations.

“Those ropes don’t look like they reach more than 30 feet, she needs to get lower,” I add.

So we give chase, with the mom and the balloon operator on board, and talk her through how to land a hot air balloon. And she does it – perhaps a little too effectively.

“She’s dropping hard, Cap!” I call, watching the balloon out of the window.

“Yeah, we’re not gonna make it before she lands,” Buck says, his voice full of concern for this stranger he’s never met. Typical Buck, wearing his heart on his sleeve.

We wind our way along dusty roads and bump onto the grass verge. Buck, Bobby and I leap out of the truck and sprint for the basket as it sinks towards the ground. The last thing we want is for it to hit the ground, knock Sophie out, and then take off again with her unconscious inside and unable to use the ropes or bring herself back down again.

We all sprint across the field, but Buck is the fastest.

“I got it!” he shouts, launching himself up and into the basket. I lunge for the ropes, heaving my whole weight against them to try and steady the balloon for him. Bobby jumps too and hangs on to the edge of the basket as Buck yanks on the ropes.

“Hey, I got you, I got you,” Buck says, as the basket lands and the balloon rapidly deflates above us. We drag the silken mass of yellow, white and blue to the side, and Buck vaults back out of the basket and lifts Sophie out. Her mom comes sprinting towards us, and sweeps her daughter into her arms for a hug. As they reunite and start walking away, I lift out my arm across Bobby and bump fists with Buck, smiling at him.

*

**Hen’s POV**   
  


Karen is hunched over her laptop when I finally come through to bed.

“I swear, now that we have two, bedtime is like a hostage situation, it’s just constant negotiation,” I tell her as I remove my earrings.

“Well who won?” she asks.

I pause so long she looks up from the screen and meets my eye.

“They did,” I admit, and we laugh.

“Wait, you went to Shogun without me?”

Uh-oh.

“Who d’you go with?”

“Chimney,” I say, trying to think of the most plausible lie I can. “You know, I never took him out for his birthday.”

“And you didn’t invite me? I love teppanyaki.”

I can’t tell her I’ve been seeing Imelda. No one knows that I’m seriously considering taking the MCATS. I’m too afraid to say it yet, afraid that they might tell me it’s a stupid idea and crush those fragile dreams I’ve been nurturing ever since I let a woman die on my watch and lost a man to hospital staff who should have known better. I can make a difference, a real difference, as a doctor. But I need to know that I can achieve this first before I tell people about it. Even my wife.  
Time to fall back on a version of the truth – the reason why we never go out to dinner for double dates with the 118.

“Babe, you know how it is. I invite you, so he invites Maddie. Maddie invites Buck, Buck invites Eddie, and now we’ve gotta invite Athena and Bobby, and next thing you know you’re looking at a dinner bill roughly the size of a mortgage payment.”

I love the 118, but I’m not sure we’re ready for quadruple dating yet. And I’m not sure Karen’s ready for how insufferable Buck and Eddie are together, despite the fact that they’re not technically a couple. Yet.

*

**Eddie’s POV**

Down power lines are one of the most dangerous calls you can get. The truck is sat directly under them, so it’s vital we move carefully or risk being run through with enough electricity to fry you on the spot.

“Guys, those lines are still hot,” Bobby warns, as Buck and I approach the hijacked truck. As if to prove his point, one of the cables sizzles and sparks fly. We back away.

Bobby dispatches us to fetch CO2 from the truck and asks Dispatch to get DWP down here ASAP. We let rip with them across the front of the truck to cool it down and put out any fire hazards. Buck is transfixed by the hijacker’s hair.

“I thought these truck cabs were supposed to be grounded, why does her hair look like that?”

“High voltage can emit an awful lot of static electricity.”

With a whoop-whoop of their siren, a police car pulls up, and two officers start heading our way.

“You came for the tree murderers,” the lady yells.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s who they’re here for,” Buck calls, trying unsuccessfully to hold back his laughter. Unfortunately, that’s about the last time he laughs all day. We’ve barely eased her out of the car when there’s a crunching sound at the intersection up ahead, and car alarms start blaring. The power’s gone out. Everywhere. We learn later that the crash caused the outage. But now, Buck takes off into the mayhem, and I take this very well-dressed, highly unhinged woman off for treatment.

“This is going to be a long day,” I hear Bobby mutter.

None of us knew just how true that prediction was going to turn out to be.

*

**Maddie’s POV**

“Dispatch, this is 727 L30.”

Athena’s voice crackles into my headset, calm and collected as always.

“I’m going to need backup and detectives to Studio Self-Storage. Have a possible –”

She cuts off abruptly as a male voice yells incoherently. I hear Athena shout too, and then the sound of a struggle takes over at the other end of the line.

“727 L30, do you copy? 727 L30, please respond!”

My voice pitches up as I say it. I can see other dispatchers turning their heads, listening in, picking up on the panic in my voice and the fight going on over the line.

“Officer needs help. 727 L30 at Studio Self-Storage.”

Her line’s open, still broadcasting, but I can’t talk to her. I can’t get through to Athena. Would she even be able to hear me if I could?

**Eddie’s POV**

“Switch to tac channel 50, officer on open mike, in distress.”

I hear Maddie’s voice, and the sounds of a struggle on the open mike. I hate hearing these. They come through every so often, and you always feel so helpless. The fire department tend to leave the police to deal with these urgent assistance calls themselves. We don’t have guns, we might be more of a hindrance than a help. We’re in the middle of transporting a patient too, so we couldn’t go even if it were nearby. But it goes against every fibre of my being not to rush to every call like this one. We never leave a man or woman behind. Army, Fire, Police. We’re family. And it’s hard to hear your family in distress.

Especially when you realise it _is_ your family.

“727 L30 at Studio Self-Storage.”

Buck looks sharply over at me. He’s looking for confirmation in my face that I know that call sign too, know the officer in distress. And I do. We all do. But Hen’s the first one to speak.

“Bobby,” she says. Just one word. Full of desperation.

Bobby’s frozen. Just for a moment. He weighs up doing his job against racing to his wife’s aid. We all know what he’ll choose.

“Take him to the hospital, everyone else on the engine, now, let’s go!”

He runs for the truck and we follow without hesitation.

**Maddie’s POV**

I’ve heard a lot of really tough calls as a dispatcher. But this is the worst one yet.

Josth stands beside me, his hand clamped over his mouth. Tears blur my vision but I can’t stop staring at the screen, can’t stop listening. I feel so powerless. In my head, I’m willing Athena to fight, to not give up. She’s the strongest woman I’ve ever met, but I’m so afraid for her in those long minutes that pass while we wait for backup to reach her, as every free cop in the city races to the self-storage unit. The whole of the dispatch centre has fallen silent, everyone listening, waiting, hoping, praying.

Then the gun goes off.

**Buck’s POV**

We all piled into the truck so quickly that everyone’s sitting in the wrong seats. Eddie’s up in front, glancing back at us every now and then, unsure of himself. Hen stares blankly at the wall behind me. I hate feeling so powerless.

“Cap, they’re telling us to change to Tac 50,” Chim says softly beside me. None of us expect Bobby to hear him, to take any notice. We’re all tensed in our seats, willing the engine to get there faster.

Then the gun goes off.

**Hen’s POV**

By the time we get there the whole block is lit up blue.

Ten police cars have crowded into the parking lot ahead of us. We steamroller in and park as close to the doors as we can manage. Bobby is the first one out of the truck. He only stops to remove an axe from the compartment on the side, and then he’s striding for the doors. As Chim and I grab our medical bags, Eddie grabs two more axes from the side of the truck, hands one to Buck and follows Bobby.

“Sir, the building’s not clear,” one of the cops says as Bobby marches in. We all ignore him, and surge into the building together. I’m clutching my medical bag like a talisman, hoping it will bring us to Athena alive. I’m not sure what any of us will do if she’s not.

And finally, we reach the corridor where it happened. The suspect is chained to a pipe along the wall. He’s alive, but covered in blood, with a broken nose at the very least. I hope Athena did that to him, but if she didn’t her colleagues certainly did. But if he’s alive and the gun went off...

Bobby reaches him first, and I’m close behind. For a moment, I wonder if Bobby might take that axe to him, and to hell with the consequences. I see his fingers flex around the handle.

“Captain Nash.”

It’s Officer Williams. We’ve met him several times before, he’s one of the officers on Athena’s shift.

“She’s here,” he says, and removes the gun from Athena’s hand. She’s alive. She’s the one who took the shot.

Bobby and I move through the officers surrounding Athena.

“Athena, can you hear me?” I ask, crouching down beside her with Chim. Thank God we brought our kit with us, and ignored orders to stay outside. And thank God I have my medical training to fall back on now when all I want to do is cry. Or take an axe to the suspect myself.


	20. Derailed

**Hen’s POV**

“Summer camp?”

Buck’s indignant tone breaks into my concentration, but I scowl at the paper instead of him. I can’t afford to lose focus now.

“It’s all he can talk about,” Eddie replies. “Some of the other kids from school are going. It’s only two weeks. Time!” he shouts, my cue to stop. I sit back, already second guessing half my answers. Eddie sits opposite me and starts marking the paper. Buck has other ideas.

“Who whoa, two weeks away from home?!” he interjects, blue eyes wide. “Isn’t Chris kind of young for that? What if something happens? What if he gets homesick?”

“I’m pretty sure I brought in the brochure so you guys could make me feel _better_ about him going.”

I could not roll my eyes any harder. Is it too much to ask to be able to focus on a damn exam without having to sit through their domestic dramas as well? I spin my pen aggressively between my fingers.

“Clearly you did not think that plan through to its logical conclusion,” Chim says from the kitchen, where he’s helping Bobby make lunch.

“I started going to sleep-away camp when I was eight, I loved it,” Bobby says, trying to reassure Eddie. “Camp Weegeewoggin.” He makes a yodelling sound that is almost inhuman, then smiles and says, “Looked forward to it every year.”

Eddie pauses, chooses to say nothing, and ducks his head back over my test paper instead, most probably regretting his life choices.

“Yeah, but Christopher’s a city kid,” Chim says, stirring the pan over the stove.

“So was I,” says Bobby. “St. Paul is a city.”

Chim looks away and catches mine and Buck’s eyes.

“If you say so,” he grins. Buck laughs to himself. I shake my head.

“I’m just trying to imagine trying to sell Denny on the idea of two weeks without the internet,” I say, and almost shudder at the thought.

“He’s pretty excited,” Eddie says. “I mean, they even have this farm to fork programme where the kids pick veggies and cook them for dinner.”

“Yeah, sounds a lot like child labour,” says Buck, in a would-be casual voice. I see the looks Chim and Bobby exchange, even if Buck and Eddie don’t. I wonder if they realise that they’re practically co-parenting a nine year-old? Because, whatever Eddie says, I know the one person he’s really asking for sign-off on the idea of summer camp is Buck.

Then Eddie gathers up the test papers and my nerves return, cancelling out my irritation at Buck and Eddie and their general cluelessness.

*

**Maddie’s POV**

A train car derailment close to the LA County Line. It’s going to be huge. I know Chimney and the 118 will be going to it – something this big, every available unit will be there.

It’s only at the end of our conversation, when the first units pull up on scene, that I think to ask the caller’s name.

“It’s Abby.”

If I’d been holding a physical phone I know I would have dropped it.

_Abby_. Buck’s Abby. It has to be. There are so many things I want to say to her, but I rein it all in and keep it professional. Once she hangs up, I stare at my screens for a moment, reeling.

Should I text Buck? What would I say? Hey, you know your ex-girlfriend that you never really got over? Well, she just called me up and told me she was in a train crash. Hey, just a heads up, if you get called to that major train derailment, keep an eye out for Abby wandering amongst the wreckage. Nope, don’t think either of those would fly.

*

**Eddie’s POV**

This is bad. I’ve never been to a train derailment before – they’re kind of rare in the US, we use cars so much – but when they happen they go really wrong. Through the dust and rubble and twisted metal wreckage, I catch glimpses of sprawled, broken bodies long beyond help. We have black tags ready to mark them out when the time comes.

Janet Rees, Captain of the 153 and Incident Commander, briefs Bobby. We’re all still staring around us in stunned silence, so we hear it too.

“The debris field is pretty far and wide. We’ve got our hands full with all the passenger cars down here but there are reports that folks are trapped up there, we can’t get to them yet.”

She’s gesturing to the rear train car, that has somehow cantilevered up so it’s completely vertical.

Bobby splits us off to survey the damage.

“Buck, Eddie, go have a look see if there’s a way to secure that car so we can get those people out.”

We set off, picking our way carefully over the debris and assessing the task ahead. It’s going to be a long night.

*

Buck and I get separated as we clamber over the wreckage. He goes to help one of the walking wounded up onto their feet, and I find myself drifting towards the train car alone. My attention zeroes in on an argument close by, where two guys from the 153 are struggling with a woman. She doesn’t seem injured, but she’s refusing go with them, away from the crash site, insistent on getting to the upended train car.

“Please, if you could just let me up in there.”

She’s not backing down, so I jump in and relieve them.

“Guys, I’ve got it.”

“Please! I’ve gotta get up there!”

I let them get back to work and try to reason with her.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, we can’t let you inside, it’s too dangerous.”

“I know it’s dangerous, I need to get up into that car.”

She’s a redhead, wearing a cream jumper and glasses. She dresses young, but I think she must be in her 40s. And she’s going to be hard work.

“I hear you, I’m sorry,” I start, blaming her resistance on shock. She has a trail of dried blood down the side of her face, but it’s a superficial cut, probably under her hairline, and she seems otherwise uninjured. Despite what she says, she clearly doesn’t realise how dangerous this scene is.

“Wait, are you from the 118?” she interrupts, suddenly clocking the number on my helmet.

“Yeah,” I answer, mystified. How does this civvie know about our house number? She stares at me incredulously, but before I can ask her...

“Abby?”

Our heads snap round as one as we look at Buck, who is removing his helmet and staring at us like he’s just seen a weeping statute of the Virgin Mary.

So this is Abby.

“Buck?” she says.

I can literally see the moment Buck’s brain starts whirring again, in high gear.

“Err, y-you, you were on the train.”

“Yeah,” she says, trying to move past us again. “I gotta –”

“We need to get you checked out, come on.”

His protective mode goes into overdrive. I’ve seen Buck use it time and time again, but never with this intense expression. She meant way more to him than he ever lets on. My irritation at her ramps up another notch.

“No, I’m fine, I need to –”

She’s pointing up at the train wreck, hoping he’ll let her move past where I didn’t. But for once Buck is talking sense.

“What Abby, hey no, that’s crazy.” They’re circling each other in some strange dance, illuminated by torchlight, as Buck tries to reason with her. I try to keep pace with them, unsure of what to do and whether or not to weigh in.

“No Abby, Abby, stop –”

“I need to find somebody!” she shrieks, finally losing it.

Buck backs up half a step. The hand that was outstretched towards her momentarily reaches towards me instead, and I almost – almost – take it.

“OK, well just tell us who,” Buck says. “We’re going inside –”

“My fiancé!”

Buck freezes on the spot like he’s been turned to stone, and his face falls slack with shock. Oblivious, Abby rambles on in tears.

“He fell asleep when I went to the bar.”

Buck is rigid and silent, and my patience with Abby has run right out. A silent Buck is always bad news, but Abby’s so blinded by fear for her fiancé that she has no idea. From the corner of my vision I see him lean back from her, blinking, shoulders heaving like she’s physically winded him, sucked the breath right out of his lungs. Doesn’t she realise how much that one word will have hurt Buck? He waited for her for months. He was still in a relationship that she had checked out of long before. Even now... _especially_ now...I’m not sure he ever got over her.

But Abby has someone up there who needs us. Whether he’s dead or not, now it’s up to us to find out. And if Buck can’t talk to her, someone has to.

“OK,” I sigh, leaning forward to get her attention. “Can you give us a description?”

She reaches for her phone, so I chance a quick glance at Buck, and immediately wish I hadn’t. The broken expression I find pierces me like an arrow.

“That’s him.”

Abby holds up her phone, to show a loved up couples photo of her and her fiancé. Just to twist the knife in a little further for Buck, though I don’t think she even realises she’s doing it. She points up at the train car.

“We were in that top car right there, all the way in the back.”

I don’t trust myself to say another word to her without losing my temper, so I give her the slightest nod, turn away and head for the train car. As I pass Buck, I raise my hand to his shoulder. I want to touch him, to wake him up, remind him that we still have a job to do. It doesn’t seem like enough. Suddenly, I wish we were alone in Buck’s apartment again, like the day I spoke to him after the tsunami. I wish I could put my hands on his shoulders and make him really look at me, to hold his gaze with mine and tell him that this isn’t his fault. He did everything right. He waited for her, put his life on hold for her, and she treated him like this. She never deserved him.

But, of course, I can’t say that. Buck’s always been better with words than me. Much better at running his mouth off, anyway. And with Abby watching us, something I’d do without thinking if we were alone seems suddenly far too intimate. I lose my nerve at the last minute, and my hand drifts over his shoulder instead. I feel the whisper of my glove against the shoulder of his jacket, and hope it accomplishes what I can’t say out loud.

I only hear snatches of their conversation as I walk away, but I already know what Buck’s going to do.

“We’ll bring him back to you. I promise.”

Loyal to a fault. I just hope he hasn’t promised something he can’t deliver.

*

The climb to the top of the upended car takes a long time. I’m used to climbing, but ascending the inside of a vertical train car just using the seats and tables for hand and footholds is a new one on me. There are a lot of black tags to be left with passengers who didn’t survive the crash. By the time we reach the top I’ve all but given up hope of finding Sam alive. But, against the odds, he’s there. Pinned by a steel beam and in pain when he breathes. It’s not good.

Buck makes a beeline for him, calling his name.

“My fiancée...she’s on the train.”

Buck glances over at me, unsure of what to say for a moment.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, hey, she’s OK,” he says finally.

Buck radios in to Bobby.

“Cap I got a passenger pinned up here. Looks like the support beam from the observation deck broke through the floor, need you to send up the jaws, OK?”

“Copy that, coming right up.”

I’m checking Sam’s vitals when the train car groans and rocks, unsteady, and Buck and I are flung about. I grip onto the edges of seats and tables, Buck my first priority, then Sam.

It’s a relief to see Bobby emerge from the darkness. He’s carried both the jaws and the hydraulic ram up by himself. What a hero.

“He’s got a collapsed lung from the blunt force,” I tell him as Buck tries the jaws, to no avail. He gets started on the ram. Then screams of pain that aren’t Sam’s stop us in our tracks.

“Hey!” I shout, reaching over to tap Buck’s shoulder and stop him. “We’ve got somebody else!”

I clamber over to the other side of the car. A girl. Late teens, early twenties. She was covered over by a bag, but now we see that she’s at the other end of the beam that’s pinning Sam.

“Hey, how’re you doing?”

“My side really hurts,” she manages to say, her face contorted in pain and covered in blood.

“Can I take a peek?” I ask, and carefully examine her. When I see her injury, I almost wish I hadn’t.

“Oh, God.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. It’s so unprofessional, not the words of comfort I should be delivering to a patient. But I haven’t seen an injury like this since I left Afghanistan.

“Force of the crash pushed her leg up into her torso,” I broadcast to Bobby and Buck.

“What?” the girl shrieks.

I have to check her circulation, see if there’s still blood flow to her foot. “This is going to hurt a little bit,” I warn her, and carefully ease her boot off, to more whimpers of pain.

“There’s still a pulse in her foot,” I report back with some relief. “Blood’s still pumping to it.”

“It’s that beam,” Bobby mutters, and he moves back to the other side of the carriage to consider our options.

“Be right back, OK?” I promise the girl, trying to give her my best reassuring expression, to ease the sheer terror in her face. Then I clamber after Bobby. Buck notices and thuds down after us.

“What’s going on?” he says, trying and failing to sound matter of fact. Instead, he sounds impatient and a little bit panicked.

“They’re both trapped by the same beam, we take the pressure off of him, we’re squeezing her,” Bobby explains. Then he looks over at me. “Which one has the better shot?”

Impossible question. Especially with Buck staring at me desperately like that. I shake my head.

“Their injuries are different, but the risk is the same,” I say.

“What are we saying?” Buck asks incredulously “We’ve gotta pick who we save?”

“I’m saying I don’t think we can save them both,” Bobby says, quietly but firmly. I’m used to those odds. It’s brutal, but it’s how a soldier thinks. We always try to leave no man (or woman) behind...but sometimes impossible choices have to be made. Buck just hasn’t had to face a choice like that yet.

We head back to Sam and get a cannula inserted so I can get some fluids and painkillers into him.

“Alright Sam, this is for the pain.”

I look at Buck, regretting that I have to ask this of him. “Keep him talking.”

If I could stay here and send Buck to the girl I would, but he’s not a medic. I can still hear traces of their conversation as I work. Buck’s asking about Abby and their upcoming wedding, like he wasn’t torturing himself enough already.

Buck’s still with Sam as I update Bobby on their conditions. That’s good, because I need to be honest with Bobby. In my opinion, the girl has a better chance. And that’s what I tell Bobby when he asks me. I know why: he’s gearing up to make a mercenary decision.

“OK, I’m calling it,” Cap says finally. “We start with the girl. We get her out.”

Buck’s making his way unsteadily back to us across the wobbly carriage. I hope he hasn’t heard us.

“Copy that,” I murmur, not meeting his eyes. Unfortunately his hearing is too good.

“Wait, no, no, no, that’s gonna crush Sam’s other lung, he’s gonna die!”

Buck hisses the last few words so the patients can’t hear, but it’s about the only sensible thing he does in the next five minutes.

“I’m aware of that,” Bobby says patiently, “but protocol dictates that we save whomever has the better chance, and Eddie’s saying that’s the girl.”

Great. So now _I’m_ the bad guy. Buck looks at me, wide-eyed and incredulous. I know that hurt, betrayed expression well. I’ve rarely seen it directed at me though.

“Her vitals are stronger,” I tell him, trying to keep my voice as calm as possible, hoping it might calm him too, help him see my reasoning. “He’s starting to decompensate. If we have to choose...”

I let this hang in the air, hoping that somehow we might be able to come up with a miracle solution no one’s thought of yet.

“We do,” Bobby says, quietly but firmly. “We can’t move that steel beam.”

As if to confirm how dangerous this is, how little time we have left, the carriage rocks again and Buck snatches for a handhold as the girl whimpers in terror.

“OK, look you’re right, the beam is steel,” Buck says. His words are running fast, a sure sign of panic and a half-baked idea on the horizon. I don’t like where this is going. “But the skin on this thing, the skin is stainless, that’s much thinner.”

Yeah, this isn’t sounding good.

“I could, I could go outside, I could cut a piece out, pull the girl through, and that will buy us enough room to save Sam.”

Is he even listening to himself? That’s one of the dumbest plans I’ve ever heard. I feel a stab of irrational anger at Abby, of all people, for coming back here and screwing with Buck’s head again.

“No.” To my relief, Bobby shuts him off. “This car hasn’t been secured, that’s why we’re working on the inside.”

It’s like he’s explaining everything to a probie. Buck knows better than this. One of the first jobs we had together, I told him he was a badass under pressure. He didn’t flinch at a grenade in a man’s leg. After the earthquake, he ran up the ladder tower to that collapsing hotel, risked falling out of the 11th floor, and the whole time I never saw a flicker of panic. He saved my son from a _tsunami_. Yet throw _her_ in the mix and he’s not seeing straight, blinded by some misguided sense of loyalty to a woman who left him to find herself.

“If this thing topples, we can ride it down, but if you’re on the outside –”

“Yeah, I know,” Buck interrupts. “I will be crushed to death by a hundred tonnes of train car, and I know that this is a lot heavier than a fire truck, but, Bobby –”

I can’t listen to any more of this.

“Buck, stop!”

My voice comes out more strained than I intended. I even put a hand out, as if to physically stop him. Maybe it’s the thought of the train car hurtling to the ground and crushing Buck into the earth beneath us that does it. But I can’t listen to him talk like this, like his life means so little.

“Look, I know you made a promise...” I start, then trail off, unsure of what to say next. Telling the truth, that I can’t bear to think of him dying at all, let alone dying because of her, just isn’t something I can find the words for. It burns me up with anger: at Abby, at Buck, even at Sam, who just happened to be unlucky enough to be here and get caught up in this train wreck in the first place.

“What promise?”

Bobby to the rescue again. I grind my teeth and look away from them both, feeling my hand clenching into a fist. A part of me wants to punch Buck, to grab him and shake some sense into him. But I don’t. And I don’t say anything either. I’m not making this any easier for Buck. He’ll have to tell Bobby himself.

“To his fiancée. I...I promised I would bring him back to her.”

“What?” Bobby asks, dumbfounded. We never make promises like that to family or friends of the missing or injured. We don’t make promises that we can’t keep.

Bobby is perhaps the one person who could talk some sense into Buck. I hope. But he doesn’t know the half of it. The anger is rising in my chest again, and the words break out of me.

“To _Abby_ ,” I spit acidly, hearing the disgust in my own voice. “His fiancée's _Abby_.”

“OK,” Bobby says wearily, but I don’t wait around to hear what he says next. Suddenly I’m on my feet. I can’t sit here and listen to Buck trying to convince us that this suicide mission is a good idea. He’s too damn noble, always having to be a hero. I knew men like him, in the services. He is perhaps better than all of them. But what good is a dead hero to anyone?

I push past them both, and go back to the girl.

“No, look, it’s not just about her,” Buck says as I go. I wish he hadn’t added the ‘just’ in there.

“OK, he’s a father, he has two daughters –”

“Stop, you’re too close to this, this is too risky,” Bobby tells him. I try to block them out but their voices carry, and I really hope our patients are too out of it to hear them. We’re running on borrowed time as it is, we can’t be having this argument here and now.

“I am willing to take that risk.”

“It’s not yours to take!” Bobby shouts, his patience wearing thin. “You can’t just rush into any dangerous situation and assume it’s going to be OK, because sometimes it’s not, and I am tired of being on the wrong side of those hospital doors.”

So am I.

“Bobby!” Buck hisses. “I am not Athena.”

“What did you just say to me?”

Buck’s done it now. Bobby’s voice tips over from frustration into outright anger. We all spend so much time together that we learn the shortcuts to each other’s buttons, how to push them and when you really shouldn’t. Digging at Bobby’s wife, who’s recovering from a near-death experience with a serial rapist, is way over the line. Buck knows that, and he’ll regret saying it, if we make it out of here in one piece. But right now they’ve both lost control of their feelings. Mine are boiling close to the surface too, but I grit my teeth and hold it together, like I always do.

“Enough!” I order them. “We don’t have time for this.”

The others always tell me I’m the one who can get through to Buck when they can’t. The voice of reason bringing him back to earth. So it stings a little to know I haven’t made a dent this time, when he barely reacts to the sound of my voice.

“Buck, come on!”

I hate the edge in my voice. It’s desperate, an appeal to bring him back to me, to snap him out of this spiral Abby has sent him into. Finally, he listens, and follows me back to our patients. But I know this argument isn’t over.

**Bobby’s POV**

I’ve been wondering for a while now when this was going to become a problem.

Buck’s always been impulsive. He wants to help everyone, to charge in and save every victim, no matter the consequences. It’s like he just can’t grasp the danger behind what we do. Especially if he’s the one at risk.

And then Eddie was buried alive.

I have never seen Buck lose control like that before. He is always focused on the job in hand, always working through options, like a jigsaw puzzle. His choices might be reckless, might not be what I would choose, but he has never broken down so completely in the field before. If we had lost Eddie that night, I am certain we would have lost Buck too.

No one told Eddie how Buck reacted. How he pushed me out of the way when the drill rig fell, knocking us both to the ground as thunder roared overhead. Then, when he looked up and saw the earth reformed, and Eddie gone, how panic seized control of him. How he scrabbled at the earth like a man possessed, as if he could dig through 45 feet of earth by himself with just his gloved hands. When I finally pulled him away, still screaming Eddie’s name, he collapsed back onto my legs and sobbed brokenly.

I know Buck shut himself away in the upstairs bathroom at the farmhouse to try and bring himself back under control. But his emotions were still so close to the surface. The anger that flashed like lightning when he thought that we already presumed Eddie to be dead. The numbness and shock that overtook him after that. And the relief that flooded his face when Eddie returned. We were all glad to see him – despite what I said to Buck, I was afraid that we might only be pulling up a body – but Buck was beside himself with joy. I have never seen him smile so much, his hand gripping Eddie’s. He didn’t let go until they were sat in the ambulance, when Hen insisted so she could check Eddie over.

It was like we all agreed not to mention it to Eddie. Not even Hen and Chimney, who shoot knowing looks at each other and crack jokes about Buck and Eddie when neither of them can hear it, held their tongues. Eddie came back to work a few days later, none the wiser. And Buck kept his head down and ploughed on, working harder than normal the next few weeks, as if he knew he’d slipped up, and wanted to make it up to us without having to talk about it. I let it slide to spare him the embarrassment, because I felt sorry for the kid. He was unprofessional and he lost control, but he knew it, and worked to correct his mistake.

Looking at Buck’s face that night was all the confirmation I needed to understand his feelings for Eddie. They were written across him, etched into every line on his face, and he never even realised. Whether or not he knows now – though I’m still not sure he does – he would never think to hide his feelings from us. Buck is an open book. How much he cares, and how obviously he cares, is both one of his greatest strengths and one of his greatest weaknesses.

I always know when Buck is struggling to keep his feelings in check. But this is the first time I’ve seen Eddie’s composure waver. I’ve never worried about him out in the field: his Army training and his natural reservations make him every fire captain’s dream firefighter. Determined, resourceful, brave, willing to take risks, but always following orders. Well, almost. That boy he rescued from the house fire, and the boy in the well, were the exceptions. But we all have our weak spots.

I think I’ve known for a while that Eddie is Buck’s weak spot. But this is the first time that I’ve thought that, perhaps, Buck might also be Eddie’s.

I didn’t miss the look of disgust on Eddie’s face when he told me that Abby was the fiancée Buck promised to bring Sam home to. I didn’t miss that he spat out her name like acid. And I heard the note of panic in his voice when he tried to dissuade Buck from climbing out the side of the train car to rescue the girl.

I’m fairly sure that they’re both oblivious to the feelings the rest of us are starting to see quite clearly, but I’m going to have to keep an eye on their performance in the field. They may not be aware of it, but their instincts are so finely tuned to each other that it could start to compromise their effectiveness. And if that happens, I might be forced to take action.

**Eddie’s POV**

It goes against my every instinct, but somehow Buck talks his way into this suicide mission. He lowers himself down the outside of the train car, while Bobby returns to ground level to get the crews down there to secure it.

The sound of the saw starts up outside, and I see the flash of sparks as Buck gets to work on cutting through the stainless steel skin.

“How are we doing, Sam?” I ask him, taking over Buck’s job of talking to the patients.

“OK,” he says stoically. “How’s the girl?”

“She’s hanging in there.”

I check his pupils with my torch.

“I’m really sorry,” the girl calls.

“For what?” Sam asks.

“That you got hurt. You were really nice to me.”

“Sorry you’re gonna miss your gig,” he replies, and she manages a laugh. It never ceases to amaze me what people find to talk about and bond over when they’re in the craziest situations. These two could both die, and instead of thinking about themselves they’re worrying about each other.

“You guys aren’t missing anything,” I tell them firmly. “We’re getting you out.”

I’m beyond grateful to have a distraction while Buck hangs off the edge of the train car. As long as I have patients to save and a job to do, I can keep my mind focused. It’s when the carriage rocks and the sawing stops that my heart nearly stops with it.

But the gods are smiling on us tonight. The sawing starts up again, Buck yanks the panel off the car, and we’re able to transfer the girl to the basket. Then I turn my attention to Sam, and to taking some of that pressure off his chest so we can move him out.

And it works out. Thanks to Buck’s sheer stubbornness and bravery bordering on stupidity, we get to save Sam too. As I swing him out of the carriage to Buck, Sam’s thoughts are already elsewhere.

“Abby, is she here?”

“She’s down there waiting for you, Sam,” Buck says. I can hear the pain in his voice, though I’m sure Sam can’t.

**Abby’s POV**

“Did you talk to the girls?”

Trust Sam to be so selfless, to think of everyone else before himself. I can’t let go of him, can’t stop clinging onto his hand to reassure myself that he’s really here.  
“You’re so amazing and brave, they’d be really proud of you.”

“Hey, hey man.” Sam says suddenly, jabbing over my shoulder with his free hand. “Thank you.”

I look back to see Buck jogging to catch us up. He slows to a stop as I look round at him, suddenly uncertain.

“Buck. Thank you,” I say fervently, trying to pour as much gratitude into those three words as I can. Of all the people who could have been here tonight, there is no one I would rather put my trust in to save my fiancé's life than him.

“You’re Buck?” Sam asks. I told him about Buck – it would be wrong to leave him out of my story, when he played such a big part of my life in LA, at least towards the end. And I couldn’t keep anything from Sam anyway.

Buck nods, his face contorting as he tries to force a smile.

“Good to meet you, Sam.”

I hold Buck’s gaze a while longer, then move away as Sam’s gurney is wheeled to the ambulance. They lift him on and I have to let go of Sam’s hand, at least for a few seconds. I can feel Buck’s gaze burning into my back, and turn to look at him again. Buck’s partner, Diaz, has joined him. He stands close beside Buck, flanking him, and I can see the protective expression on his face from here. I was too panicked about Sam to think about it then, but I could see his demeanour change as soon as he worked out who I was. I don’t know what Buck’s told him, what conclusions he’s drawn himself, but it’s so clear in his body language how he feels about me. And how he feels about Buck.

**Eddie’s POV**

I stride up alongside Buck as Sam is lifted into the ambulance. It’s the only time Abby lets go of him, briefly, and looks back at Buck. His expression is dark, shuttered. I draw level and look at him, trying to catch his eye. He doesn’t even register my presence. All his attention is focused on her. As the ambulance doors close, Abby finally drops her gaze from Buck, and it’s like the spell is finally broken.

“You OK?” I ask him.

His jaw is tight, clenched. Buck is usually so easy to read, so willing to tell you how he’s feeling at any given moment. I pride myself on being able to read him better than most. But this time I can’t tell what’s running through his mind. He finally meets my gaze, but it’s like he’s barely seeing me. All of a sudden he looks much older than his years.

“What’s next?” he mutters grimly. He turns his back on Abby and me and the ambulance, and jogs away. It’s so sudden that for a moment he leaves me standing in the dust. Then I take off after him.

Where Buck goes, I go.

*

**Buck’s POV**

It’s such a beautiful day. Typical LA, to be able to hear sirens and birdsong all at once. I stare out at the skyline, tracing skyscrapers with my eyes, even when I know Abby’s approaching me. Because I’m not sure what I want to say to her, even after all this time, and I want to delay this conversation for just a few more seconds. I hate the fact that my stomach still lurches feebly at the sight of her, that I painstakingly chose the clothes I’m wearing today, that I’ve rehearsed an opener to this conversation again and again and never managed to get it right.

“Hi,” she says finally.

“Uh, hi,” I reply, smiling at her despite myself. It feels so awkward, and that in itself feels wrong. This is Abby, who used to talk to me for hours on the phone. And now it’s stilted and awkward; two strangers making small talk.

“Thanks for meeting me,” she says, so calm and composed.

I nod, making sounds that don’t make sense as I try to gather my thoughts.

“How’s Sam?”

Easy way to start. Painful, but easy. A reminder of the barrier. The line that has been crossed and cannot be redrawn.

“He’s good. They’re expecting a full recovery.”

She’s glowing, and why wouldn’t she be? She’s getting married. She has a ready-made family and a whole new life that doesn’t include me. What’s not to be happy about?

“Good, good. He seems like a great guy.”

I can hear the anger in my voice then. Not at Sam, who had no idea of any of this when he met Abby. But at her.

“He said the same thing about you,” she smiles.

So he’s a nice guy too. Great.

Abby continues.

“And I will never be able to thank you enough for what you did.”

“Just doing my job. That’s all,” I dismiss it with a brief grimace that might pass for a smile, and look away. Abby keeps looking at me, trying to catch my eye, but I’m finding it hard to look at her. Looking at her right now would be like looking straight into the noonday sun. Way too bright and blinding, and not at all good for my health. I keep my gaze fixed on the ground, the trees, the skyline, anything else instead.

“I’m sorry that you had to find out about it this way,” Abby says. “I had actually wanted to talk to you about everything while I was in town.”  
That gets my attention.

“That’s what you’re sorry for?”

She looks confused. Oblivious to the fact that I was waiting, my whole life on hold for her, when she had no intention of coming back.

“When did you know that you were leaving me for good?” I ask, my words now laced with anger.

“Well...”

“Was it Morocco or Paris or Dublin? Or did you know when we were at the airport, and I was kissing you goodbye, promising you that I would wait for you? Did you know then, that you were never coming back to me?”

It hurts. Every single word hurts, but I’ve had two whole years to shape them in my mind, to imagine what I’d say to her if I ever got the chance. It would have been easy to bail on this meeting and just let her walk away again. But a part of me knows that this is the only chance I’ll get to get the answers I’ve been searching for.

“I thought I would,” she says, nodding at the memories. I look away. “Look, I was a person whose life revolved around everybody else’s problems. I had no identity other than the people I was helping. My 9-1-1 calls, my dying mother.” Abby shakes her head. “I just had no sense of self. I had to leave everything that I knew so I could remember who I actually am.”

Leave everything. Leave me.

“And you did, right? I mean, you did remember, but you still didn’t come home.”

Home. The apartment I sat in, night after night, surrounded by her ghost. Trace memories of her lingering on the air. Her furniture, her clothes, her books. I lived in Abby’s shadows for months, waiting for her to come home and pick back up on the life that was waiting for her. And all the while she knew and never told me. She just left it all behind like it was in another universe to hers. I guess it was.

“Yeah, I know.”

She nods, but doesn’t say anything. We stare off into space again, and for a while I think that’s it. But then she speaks again.

“I think I was afraid that if I came back, I would become that person again. Because I missed you, I wanted to see you. But I didn’t trust myself.”

Each word is like a tiny little dagger needling at my heart.

“Because being here, being with me, you might, lose yourself again.”

I say the words slowly back to her to confirm what I’m hearing, to fix them in my mind so I’ll remember them later. Abby nods, and grimaces at me sympathetically, because she knows how it sounds. I don’t want her pity and sympathy. I don’t need it. So I force myself to be the better man.

“I’m glad to see you happy, Abby. You deserve it.”

She smiles at me again, but I look away, unable to bear it. We say goodbye soon after.

*

Another life. Another universe.

Maybe I would have been the one Abby chose to spend her life with. But I was just a stepping stone for her, just a stopping point on the way from A to B.

It’s strange to meet someone who once meant so much to you and realise that they are becoming a stranger again. I know her, but I don’t. I knew the old her. But the version of herself that she is with Sam...it’s like she’s Abby 3.0. I met her when we were both at 1.0. She made me a better man, someone I could be proud of, who would make her proud too. And she skipped a whole step without me and ended up with him.

I walk away from our meeting feeling unbalanced. On the one hand, I feel empty. I’m alone, again. The woman I once thought I would spend the rest of my life with has gone down a road that I can’t follow. The door swung closed behind her, and I remember Red. The love he lost, and never got over. The thought of ending up alone and filled with regrets like him sends chills through me.

And yet...I like who I’ve become. And that’s not all on her. Abby started me off on this journey, but the last year or more I’ve moulded myself. I’ve changed too, and I like the Buck I see in the mirror now way more than the one I saw then.

_You’re going to be OK, kid._

Chris’s voice echoes in my head, and I feel the ghost of his hand against my chin. Chris, who never feels sorry for himself. Who always believes that there’s goodness out there in the world. Who never gives up, despite the fact that the odds are stacked against him.

I finally realise what Eddie’s been trying to teach me for the best part of a year.

*

**Eddie’s POV**

“To the graduates of 2020!” Michael shouts, and we all cheer.

I can’t remember the last time I let loose like this. Everyone is just high on life, laughing and singing and dancing. I’m making the most of Christopher being here with me before he heads off to camp. I’m trying not to think about letting him go for two weeks, even though I know he’ll love it. It’s so good to see him happy and smiling. He and Buck disappear off together, giggling and plotting, and I watch them fondly across the room. Buck seems better too. At some point I need to broach the subject of Abby with him, see how he’s doing. But he’s certainly on top form today, and he laughs louder than anyone when Harry splatters May in the face with cake frosting.

“You little brat, I’m gonna get you!” May vows, chasing after Harry as Buck and I catch each other’s eyes and laugh.

I think the adults make the most of the photo booth – the kids aren’t anywhere near as bothered. But we’re all over the wigs and the inflatable microphones and guitars. I’ve layered up with a glittering gold beard (that sits around my neck, not my face) and a pipe. Slightly more low key than Buck, who has bright green sunglasses perched on his head, an inflatable yellow guitar in his hands, and row upon row of Mardi Gras beads and bells around his neck. After some over-enthusiastic rocking out, he manages to swing a handful of them into my face.

“Oh shit, Eddie, I’m sorry!” he says, leaning in close and touching his finger lightly to my nose, while I go nearly cross-eyed examining the damage. I vaguely register the camera still flashing, but my gaze snags on Buck’s eyes. I don’t think I ever really noticed how blue they were before. Like the ocean.

**Buck’s POV**

Chris and I are deciding what to write on the board of congratulations for May.

“Alright, buddy your turn, what do you wanna say?”

“‘May your dreams come true, May’,” Chris replies, and my heart could burst. He’s such a good kid, with such a pure heart.

“Good, that’s really good,” I say, and we laugh together as I write it on the board for him.

Chris has shaped me as much as Abby. He has taught me as much as she did, in his own way. He and Eddie have made me a better man too. I like who I am around them. Hanging out with them, with the team who have become my family, fills my heart to the brim with joy.

Some time later, Bobby and I are watching the party unfold, staring out over the garden. I’ve done a lot of thinking over the past two weeks, and now’s my chance to right a few wrongs.

“Hey, I just wanted to apologise,” I start. “For the train,” I clarify hastily, aware that there’s probably at least one thing I’ve done every day that I could apologise to Bobby for.

Bobby smiles, relaxed and forgiving, hands jammed casually in his pockets.

“Look, it’s alright, we both got a little hot. You doing OK?”

I huff a laugh and look away. Am I OK? I mull it over for a moment then look back at him, a smile on my face.

“Yeah. I think I am.”

“Good,” he says, and my smile breaks apart the frowns and concerns that have been clouding it for so long. My gaze drifts over to Chris and Eddie, who are dancing close by, soaking in the sight of them smiling and laughing and looking so happy. It’s then I realise just how far I’ve come.

Abby was the past. But they are my future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, esp if you've made it this far! :)
> 
> Just a heads up, as we've now hit Season 4 I won't be uploading every other day. Once I've done the first few episodes that have gone out so far, we're likely to drop to one post a week. If that week's episode is a little light on Buddie content I may even roll two eps into one, so update once a fortnight. But if you've enjoyed this so far keep an eye on your feed, because the updates will come!


	21. At Least It's Not A Tsunami

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we've hit Season 4! I have to admit I struggled with this one, which covers Eps 1 and 2, because there wasn't that much Buddie content to work with from the episode. But stick with it, I promise it gets more interesting from the next chapter!

**Buck’s POV**

Chim and Maddie are arguing over FaceTime again, and I have had it up to here with both of them.

“Hey, go stick your face in your own FaceTime,” Chim says when I object.

“I should pull the plug on yours because you should be bickering with her in your own kitchen. Eddie and Hen went back to their kids months ago, you’re the only still going all World War Z.”

It was a relief to have a bit more space in my apartment, but I kind of miss Eddie. OK, really miss him. Having him stay here was hands down the best part of quarantine.

“I’m being cautious, and we’re not bickering, we’re bantering, playfully,” Chimney objects. Then he takes aim. “Speaking of which, shouldn’t you be upstairs talking to your new Covid Crush?”

I’ve let them run with this girlfriend idea for a while now. I’m just not ready for the scrutiny that will inevitably come when I tell them the truth.

“She had to go and it’s not like that with us,” I say instead, keeping it vague.

“No, she’s just a woman you talk to for hours at a time through a webcam.”

Now Maddie joins in.

“I don’t know why you won’t tell us about her.”

Because I don’t want you judging me for seeing a therapist.

“Wait, you met someone in the middle of a pandemic! What’s your secret?”

Jesus, even Albert’s getting involved now! OK, time to get out of here. I can’t take three of them questioning me all at once.

“No, I uh, I don’t have a secret, OK? Now I am going to go take a shower.” I shoot a look at Chim as I leave. “Shift starts in an hour, we leave in thirty.”

**Eddie’s POV**

“What was that, a four?” Hen asks, as another microquake rocks the fire house.

“Eh, felt like a dud. Wouldn’t put it at anything more than a three,” I say dismissively, carrying our kit bags over and stowing them in the side of the truck. I’ve become way too casual about earthquakes since the 7.1 when I first moved here.

“Hey, no cheating!” Chimney calls to Buck, who is leaning his back against the truck and looking at his phone. Buck doesn’t look up, and I can see a deep frown between his eyes.

“Caltech’s been tracking microquakes the last few days...thousands of them,” he says, and I lean over his shoulder to see the screen.

“That didn’t feel micro to me,” Bobby says as he strides past, his expression serious. And he’s proven right within the hour.

We don’t even have the time to watch the dam break and the mudslide on TV before the calls come flooding in. Pun intended. We’re despatched to an office block downtown, where a metro bus struck by debris from the mudslide has been carried into the side of an office building – five floors up.

We reach the scene and sure enough, the bus is jutting out of the floor to ceiling glass windows up on the fifth floor. Luckily the elevator is still working, so we all pile in with our gear and listen to the tinny music playing as it crawls up to the correct floor.

“Ooh, hey, Hollywood Reservoir is like two and half billion gallons.”

Buck’s gone into natural disaster mode again, reeling off facts from his phone. I wonder if he’s thinking of the tsunami, and feel guilty that it’s the first time I wonder if he had the bad dreams that Chris did after Santa Monica Pier. He never told me if he did...but we weren’t exactly speaking with the lawsuit, and then once we made up it slipped my mind and I never thought to ask.

“Where’s all that water gonna go?” Buck asks, and I detect a definite hint of nerves in his voice.

“My mom survived the dam break in the 60s – Fallen Hills,” Hen says dismissively. “Water only ever wants to go in one direction. Out to sea.”

As the doors slide open, we’re greeted with the sight of a bus rocking back and forth, sparks flying where it’s crashed through electrical cables.

“This is definitely our stop,” Chimney mutters, unable to help himself, and he Bobby and Hen march out of the lift to check for casualties. Buck and I are heading for the roof.

As the others file out of the elevator, I cast around for the right words to say, and settle on something that’s intended to be part-joke, part-reassurance, as well as testing my theory that he’s thinking of last year.

“Hey...at least it’s not a tsunami...right?”

The look he gives makes me think I was bang on the money.

**Buck’s POV**

Dude, too soon.

**Eddie’s POV**

Of course Buck volunteered for the rope work. And of course there was never any question who was going to be at the other end of it.

“Don’t you go cutting that line now,” I tell him as I throw him the rope and he tosses me his turnout jacket, which I lay out over the top of our kit bags.

“Think you’re the wrong person to be lecturing me about cutting lines,” he says, shooting me a raised eyebrow that is almost worthy of Athena. I choose to ignore the dig.

“Once you’re down there, secure yourself to a line in the office. Before you do anything else, do that.”

“I promise.”

Buck secures his clip, and once I’m happy with the ropes and the winch, I nod to him. He nods and strides for the edge of the roof.

“This is Diaz. Be advised, Buck’s about to touch down,” I tell the others over the radio, eyeing the rope carefully. “Once he’s there, I’ll send down the webbing to secure the bus.”

Alone on the roof, I listen for Buck’s update, dependent on him and the radio to be my eyes. I watch the ropes like a hawk as he descends, only relaxing once he radios through.

“Landed. Not too bad. Should be able to get this thing stable.”

Buck’s nerves have worn off now we’re out in the field. I can hear the excitement in his voice again at being back in the thick of things. I kneel at the edge of the roof, fixing the ropes that will hold the hooks I’m about to send down in place.

**Buck’s POV**

I kept my promise to Eddie and kept my line attached. Even when it would be more useful to take it off when I’m inside the building, I keep it connected until I can rig myself up to another line. Because I promised him.

We’ve got almost everybody out and I’m just back to the fifth floor for a final check when Eddie radios through directly to me, his voice urgent.

“Hey Buck, is everyone off that thing? I think it’s venting fuel.”

The tilts we put on the bus to get Keith out must have cracked something. And the bus still isn’t empty. I pelt for the doors, but almost as soon as I set foot on it, desperately calling for Bobby, it blows.

I land with a thud on the ground, dazed, but OK. And then my stomach roils at the thought of Bobby still on that bus. As I jump back on the bus, I swear my heart actually stops. Bobby is face down on the floor of the bus, and he’s not moving.

But as I step carefully towards him, he moves and slowly gets to his feet. He and the kid are both fine. Thank God. I slump against the railing, eyes closing as relief washes through me like adrenaline.

“Buck, is everything OK down there?”

Eddie’s voice grounds me and brings me back to myself.

“All good. Just getting the final passenger off the bus now.”

“Copy that. Can you head back up here and give me a hand getting the kit back down?”

“Copy that.”

  
*

**Eddie’s POV**

Of course our day doesn’t end there. From the office block we head up into the Hollywood Hills to help with the mudslide rescue efforts. Bobby splits up our usual pairings – Hen and I will go with him up into the hills, and Chim and Buck will comb the houses and streets nearby for survivors. We all exchange looks at that – we’re not used to working separately.

“OK, this is precisely why you need mixing up every now and then,” Bobby sighs, in his best teacher’s voice, when he catches us all looking at each other. “You have to be able to play nice and work with everyone.” He raises an eyebrow at Buck, who pulls a face.

“Everyone always looks at me...”

By the time we meet up again a few hours later, Buck and Chim have stumbled across an illegal adoption ring and a woman in active labour. Of course they have.

Chim is down there already – Buck takes great enjoyment from telling us that he winched Chimney down the chimney – and insisting that we tell everyone that this is how he got his name if asked in future. As Chim is staying with the woman in labour, we decide to get the others out and triage them up here.

Buck leads the charge, and obviously volunteers to go through the skylight and wince the women inside up to safety.

“Skylight’s all dug out,” he says, running through the plan out loud. I step up to him and attach the carabineer to his harness for him, making sure it’s securely fixed, even though it’s not a huge drop from the skylight to the ground.

“We’ll do this like a relay,” Buck is saying to me, as I grab his axe for him. “I go in, put them in the harness, send them up to you and Hen.”

“Copy that,” I say, handing him the axe. “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

I nod and step away so he has space to work.

“Right, clear back!” Buck shouts, and smashes the skylight, ready to swing in and save the day, as always.

*

It has been a long shift, and I’m wiped when I get in, but Chris and I have an important FaceTime to keep to.

“People who love each other are always connected by an invisible string made of love.”

“Carla, do you have an invisible string?” Chris asks. I’m sat on his bed with him, the laptop propped up further down the bed so we can both see Carla. She is sat on her bed at home, book in hand. I’ve missed seeing her in person, and not just for the extra help with Chris. Her presence is always so calming and reassuring, and Chris and I have felt a little isolated these last few months since I moved back from Buck's.

“You know I do,” Carla tells Chris. “And it’s connected right to you.”

“Even if I can’t see you?”

This clearly blows Chris’s mind, and I smile fondly at both of them.

“You can see me any time you want on the computer,” Carla says. “See me and you? We’re connected, no matter what.”

I couldn’t love her more. I will be grateful for the rest of my life that Buck brought the closest thing to a real-life saint into mine and Chris’s lives.

Buck. He’s been weird lately. Chimney mentioned a Covid crush, and I felt a little like my stomach was twisting itself into knots, but I’d not eaten all day and dismissed it as hunger. Either way, something’s going on with him. I’ll have to try and grab him at work and see if I can get it out of him.

Carla’s soothing voice drips like honey through the screen, and before I know it my eyes are closing, my head tilting forward as I fall asleep beside my son.

“As they slept, they started dreaming of all the invisible strings they had, and all the strings their friends have, and their friends have, until everyone in the world was connected by invisible strings. Night boys.”

**Buck’s POV**

So I’ve swapped out one roommate for another. Great.

“So, how do the uncles like living together?”

“Uh, Buck has a lot of rules,” Albert says uncertainly.

“Uh, are you really complaining that I said we’re gonna split chores evenly?”

Everyone except Eddie seemed surprised when I insisted on a chores rota over quarantine. But I like a clean and tidy home, so if they live under my roof they chip in.

“Hate to break it to you, Albert doesn’t do chores,” Chim says.

“I contribute in other ways,” Albert insists, looking uncomfortable. “I...make a great cup of coffee.”

“Oh I can attest to that,” Maddie says wistfully.

“Thought you weren’t supposed to be drinking coffee,” I say, and Chim makes hasty ‘cut it out’ motions with his hands where Maddie can’t see. She scowls at me.

“It’s one cup a day, people, back off.”

My phone buzzes then, catching me by surprise. I’d lost track of time.

“Ooh, uh, sorry, gotta go,” I tell them, and duck away from the iPad to head for the stairs.

“And you know what? Stop being so secretive about your new lady friend! I wanna meet her!” Maddie shouts after me, and I pretend not to hear her. Grabbing my iPad, I drop onto the bed and open the call. I have a strange mix of nerves and excitement in my stomach. These sessions always leave me feeling vulnerable and exposed, but every time I feel that little bit better, a little more the man I want to be.

“Good morning Evan. How are you?”

“Hey Dr Copeland. I’m uh, doing good. Actually, I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said in our last session about how I hide my true feelings from others. I’m starting to think you might be right.”

“OK. Let’s start there.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Kudos and comments make my day :)
> 
> Next chapter - Aftershock - covers the earthquake in S2, Eps 2 & 3.


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